The splintering of tenacious limbs
Once again, I've ended an era. Full circle, I find myself in the realm of cut paper—cut strings—and long nights. It's 3:18 a.m., and I still have a lot of work to do. I'm going to do this without a bloody, visceral sacrifice. I am going to throw myself from the top of a pyramid and land a thousand miles to the west, far into the territory on my left hand side. I will walk walklessly through the soil with breathless breath. In nonbeing I will remain unharmed. In desert salt, my wet spirit becomes the sea breeze.