|Limbs|

as we labour over our disembodiment I lose distinction of what is “yours” or “mine” and together we regress to limbs of the etherworld creature

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|Shell|

its capacity to be something worth keeping even if I'm to exist under a whole generation of feet has always kept me safe                  but never intact

|Scream|

  so quietly that it's barely a movement                   barely a whisper just mouth out the breaths of sound that falter on your lips I still hear you         I can hear you          desperate to hold it in