the sky is gray her eyes are brown and i cannot tell if it is mine or her pulse pounding in my temples but i love the groove

have you ever stood stone still in the woods on a cool autumn morning with a handful of corn as a doe stares in bewildered fear

a cascade of yellows, reds, oranges fall in slow motion with each tentative step, rippling static inducing inverse heartshivers

it bolts, but it got a few feet closer than yesterday, a few feet closer than the day before, but as the sun rises i will be standing there

my/her/its pulse shudders mercurial waves of curiosity balancing the souldeep blind terror lightning bolt kick chaser

the sky is gray her eyes are brown and i sizzle, an ant under the self scrutinizing magnifying glass, consumed from within

but it feels so fucking good to be alive