the downswing

it’s midnight, time for bed, for soothing the hurts of muscles mind soul core

but the swing is low, lower than the bed will cradle

shards of anticipation thin the raw hide ribbon my endurance

lonely boredom with all I have occupying my anticipation keeping me too wound to empty my weights

so many hobbies, interests, projects, thoughts and branches to just reach, grab, they all seem old, unfinished or touched so long they will crack under the weight of my need and anticipation for fulfillment of my potential to be

to be more

to be me, not a fragment on display, crystalline entity benign actions but destructive in true nature, intent restrained with the

shards of anticipation thinning the raw hide ribbon of my restraints

when will the hide tear, the blood spill

feel all the feels, stretch into my wings

it’s too cold outside for angels to fly, ginger bard says, another woman’s hide already torn

what would the moment of release feel like, when the hide shreds finally

dozens of tiny slits to expand the tendons’ reach, a balance of cuts to extend range that weaken the structure

shards of anticipation thinning the raw hide ribbon of my range.

Where could I reach?

Would I feel better than now?

How far would I fall?

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