You flourish outward toward the coarse sand. Lapping at the border between me and you. You flutter across my itching skin. Speculation-you are here. True-I am afraid.The sky opens up as my eyes do.Pomegranate like the seeds that turned my lips red and.Orange like the perfect peel, I need to get it just right.I need to.rip the peel.I go on.Plum like the acrid hopeful taste of a rising morning.Like the bile rising in my throat.Breath into my lungs punching my face.Breath leaving like a too short kiss-
My nutritious decay encased in a bag,bag encased in root filled dirt.My hair growing out even when I keep cutting it shorter, shorter,shorter.I hope but thats cut short too.Ive climbed.11 of 12 steps.I’m so relieved to rest my.aching itching hands.I’mscared becauseIstilldon’tknow.what’satthetop?

   …I will find out. It is always approaching.