razors.

i feel sharp. sticky. obsolete.
airs and absence and comfort are lodged deep in my throat trying to get out. seeking space. hands and limbs and lips. they retrace fate and bring forth memories long buried. i thought i was stronger than this. i've grown to know more than i wish. so sitting softly on lily pad and sandalwood, i carve secrets into my skin. singing, for faith or freedom. listening for eruption or just, a moment within.