Kayla-Sabra-Maniere

Moonlight machinery is ticking and clicking, drawing up the water from the ocean, and dropping it, letting the waves spill from Posiedon's arms, as he tries to catch the errant tide. Will the ocean always haunt me? I can hear the pounding in my dreams; all the words I have are water, salted and cold like tears. Please let me go.

I’ve fallen in love with wars & darkness. The kind of darkness said to have made shadow monsters of seen-too-much eyes & the kind of war lands made of desecrated, dandelion wrists. I am the wind, the morphine pump & I’ve carved my bones into stars. I wear them around my neck like outward sun marrow warming my carotid pulse. These little glow-in-the-dark blankets aren’t enough to stifle the sounds; but my anatomy never seemed to fit together the right way anyway.

I’ve fallen in love with wars & darkness. The kind of darkness said to have made shadow monsters of seen-too-much eyes & the kind of war lands made of desecrated, dandelion wrists. I am the wind, the morphine pump & I’ve carved my bones into stars. I wear them around my neck like outward sun marrow warming my carotid pulse. These little glow-in-the-dark blankets aren’t enough to stifle the sounds; but my anatomy never seemed to fit together the right way anyway.