Air is like a breath, but thinner and frail.

I am pressing up against you, hot and hard. Sweat pouring from my every pore. Desperate with desire, brimming with passion to take you, consume you, alter you, and return you to this world.

Inside, I am a demon waiting to destroy you.
I am an angel praying to all the gods that I can save you.
I am life needing to devour you.
I am death waiting to birth you.

This intersection where we bisect each other for a brief moment is the last thing I can cling to. The last word on the last page of patience, tolerance, acceptance, and avoidance. Where you end and I begin, I’ll never tell. Where love ends and hatred begins, I’ll never know.

Piece me together and pull me back apart. I’m like a bit of rubber waiting to snap. A thin thread of hope and trust, a fragile line of lies and truth. I’ll break if you press too hard against the surface that for all intents and purposes looks like glass.

But I’m not maliable plastic or pressure-steady glass. I’m a hardly substantial film of soap over a ring with nothing in between. I’m an echo of voices that once existed, have been dead for centuries and histories have gone between us and them.

The weight of the world is on no-one’s shoulders but gravity that bears it so eloquently.
Effortless it disappears before these tangible and physical eyeballs that take shape and form and color and read the world into them.
I breathe in and out and there is a reality that never existed between me and this space. A mutlitude of ghosts and spirits that have no weight and give no proof to their depth and girth.

They pass before me like hands smoothing out a sheet.
But for all the effort, I will never ease out.
The tension built into me is the tension poised between life and death and all I can do is wait

An edge is only the shift between one thing and another and I have been dancing it, inadvertantly, forever. Dance with me if you dare to fall and forget the falling.

The ground never hurts if you forgive it first.


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