*The desert is in my veins. Not sure why, or how or when—it just is. The ocean, though full of currents and froth and mystery—does not cast a shadow; does not cause my depths to surface. Flatlands by Chelsea Wolfe became my lullaby when I lived alone in early 2013. It was my first time being alone, free. I became self-destructive because I still had some purging to go through. But, when I felt soft, tender and heavy—this song lulled me to sleep. It held me, the way I hoped someone would.
In the dark, a swell of paws caress,
a timid tepid autumn peeks through breath,—
a chill slows the pulse,
the speed of night
breaks the spell,
night ignites the lobe—
I talk of bones as pillars
outstretched,
soft in the breeze
a feral exhalation of disease
t o
s l e e p
