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I sully all transition

Fear is the anticipated response

To progress, change itself

Being a form of termination

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Will my wings exceed

My heart’s momentum?

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At what point does preparation

Become a method of diversion?

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How high must the ground rise

Before I am willing to leap?

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I crawl under a thick duvet

Whenever I sleep

I have a thing about spirits

Being drawn

To overscrutinized flesh

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If I died today

I’d idle for a long time

Before passing on

I’m still getting to know myself

And you who I love

More than life

Are incomparable as a beacon