Spirits

The spirits wash

their aeon voices in my sink.

Dizzy neon fish wiggle

through the water.

I am naked.

This is not a good thing.

My clothes are floating in the

vast oxygen above me.

I’ve been breathing bare black

for so long that my blood

is burning obsidian.

Desire –

air,

aria,

atlas,

able.

My spirit waiting impatiently

to birth through my stormy eyes

and gain a voice.

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