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I feel as if I am sat upon a cloud, shifting over bodies of cracked land, bodies of scorched water. If I could reflect across the sea I would know that by reaching for my eyes I separate the living from its life. But my shadow falls through the steam. Shadows don’t detach. My absence of despair causes it to others. If I were to weep and let a single tear fall across my face and escape the capture of my hands I could give back a breath.

The winds circles me, spewing poison from their whispers. A moaning serenade that transcends time. It turns my life cold yet I still exist.

A storm surrounds me. The clashing clouds pass through me. It tears at my mind seeking to draw the pain and melancholy out. The selfless anger of the sky is hunting for the rain to crash and crown the earth in beautiful monotony.

But I cannot allow such an act. I condemn the storm to the depths of my lungs. I consume it until it is contained within my bones. Until I can’t feel it breathing.

A slow sigh resonates through the empty sky, and feeds the cracks below. My eyes impale the moon as a body of black drifts it’s infectious veil across the endless land.


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