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?