I am 2 months alive

I am almost 2 months alive
I breath out
like elastic.
No longer like
a sugar sculpture
expectant, shattering.
Every sudden moment
I’m inclined
to experiment with the
idea of my own early passing.
And twirl it masterfully like a pen down
near weathered knuckles.
Chew it and taste it.
Imagine it.
Role play.
My in and outs become faster
and air is bubbling hot water
so I search for meaning again in earth and sky.
In earth and sky. In bed sheets and faces.
Desperate, begging, scraping, faking.
Looking, pulsing, failing, failing.
Reading my own skin like braille
Until a resurfacing gasp and I’m alive
and down and alive again. Here again. Yours again.
But I always am knowing.
I always need to be chaperoned on a bridge.

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