A lively forest

Sweet symphonies paint the air

Smooth trills and loud flares

Wild weaves embedded

Amid a stitch of creatures

Massive and midget

Upon a gnarled twig

Hanging on the canopy

Singing melodies

And here I am.

Final drink,

Ward's bed,

Death's brink,

Slipping thread.

Here, my egoistical belief I was infinite,

Meets its binding fixity.

How ever did I allow nothing but memories.

to fool me of my being's locked tragedy.

How did I allow mere capricious moments,

to let me forget of my mortality.

Death, a human abstraction?

Time- skimpily endless sun-lit sea,

Delicious earthly distractions.

I am all I was, all I'll never be.

Windy skies, messy laughter, thoughtless dance, busy summers,

Was it enough to overlook my finality?!

I am every taut touch, slack smile, skittish kiss

Yet in the end, I am nothing but a body.

Oh, but truly,

I wish you- blind conceited eternality.

And here I am.

Final drink,

Ward's bed,

Death's brink,

Slipping thread.

Here, my egoistical belief I was infinite,

Meets its binding fixity.

How ever did I allow nothing but memories.

to fool me of my being's locked tragedy.

How did I allow mere capricious moments,

to let me forget of my mortality.

Windy skies, messy laughter, thoughtless dance, busy summers,

Was it enough to overlook my finality?!

I am every taut touch, slack smile, skittish kiss

Yet in the end, I am nothing but a body.

Oh, but truly,

I wish you blind conceited eternality.

I am palming the bulges of my stomach.

I am scraping the feeling off my forearms.

I am clawing at my clammy scarlet palms with uncut nails.

My head is dizzy, decayed, what's the harm.

I am ripping the plastic fat of my things.

I am peeling my cheeks till they're numb to tears.

I am pinching the skin that settles by my collarbones brink.

Somethings craving the spinning wheel's touch.

Sleeping beauty skin, sweating and pink.

Tell, my skin confines me far too much.

I am intangible, uncontrollable,

I am a psyche, a soul,

I am feelings that feel far too infinite-

And yet, how am I soft thick skin, far too firm, too whole?

How must a finite thing envelope my existence, a riot?!

I am my everything, and yet I stand on ten toes?

I am coursing blood and,

I am coursing thoughts without close.

Rather, make my fillings pocket-sized and planned.

My skin, horizonless.

My skin, dimpled earth.

My being deep in crisp cold soil.

Tremors sweep me,

Yet my skin is deep and tan and old.

Skin beneath the willow tree.

Skin on the bathroom floor.

Skin sunken from the sea.

I'll be skin, forever more.