The afterburn decays. It's like drowning in cotton balls. My substance reduced to nothing but electronic trembles.
What embrace is there to hold these rudimentaries together?
Trembles will have to do for now. I ache so bad. For care. Touch.
His words buzz at me. Ants with doublecheckmarks means received, seen.
"Please, forget I said anything."
Listen to him this time, Brain. Don't forget, because it's impossible. But let it flow back in to the cotton nothingness.
I hold myself.
Touch my own body. Assured I exist.
I am here, for you, Self. You are safe. Sacred as those breaths you exchanged with all of those ancient Yosemite sequoias in the October overcast.
Touch my own body. Assured I exist.
I am here, for you, Self. You are safe. Sacred as those breaths you exchanged with all of those ancient Yosemite sequoias in the October overcast.
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