survival of the fittest-frailest

caught in a light sneeze as the amour mentioned
caught in the gale of my breathing
you mouthed the syntax of my name
and the blade of my passive movements
and the language of my kinetic flickerings

made 90° angles with my vigour
and the whole larynx tasted it
you cannot feed on me
without knowing I am poltergeist in you
drying you hollow — you cannot make me perish
without hyphenating yourself

we are bodies before flesh
stitching the patchworks of us
each blood drop and vessel
monitored by the masts of our own voyages
seeing me on my odysseys
and my pilgrimage of blood and water
as my networks pulse and dry

with my obsidian eyes looking at a grey flag
we must know the harshness of the desert
before we savour on the cup of the oasis.—

Speak yer mind

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