My muscles burn.
I’ve captured void in my lungs
flattened out those wet sacks
until there was nothing left
and now
the end of Summer breeze
over my lips and nose
the very nature of me
plying the wares that dare
submission to the most basic of needs.
This won’t
defeat me.
I’m a fiend
and I enjoy the pain
my body shut down
’til the burn rolls up my throat
and the whole system is begging the brain
suck in
suck in
but it laughs
and barks
20 push-ups in a row, now.
I master
basic impulse
with a breath
or refusal to breathe
and when I’m ready
only when I’m ready
I’ll suck the scent of Autumn
until every alveoli expands with the girth
and as it takes me
reality will know
I’m the savage
in charge
over the deep-seated
subconscious things.
My muscles burn
and I’m in control
somewhere between god
and beast.

(Fuck you, breeze,
nothing’s got dominion over me.)

Jillian wrote this.

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