I sully all transition

Fear is the anticipated response

To progress, change itself

Being a form of termination


Will my wings exceed

My heart’s momentum?


At what point does preparation

Become a method of diversion?


How high must the ground rise

Before I am willing to leap?


I crawl under a thick duvet

Whenever I sleep

I have a thing about spirits

Being drawn

To overscrutinized flesh


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