©2023 michael raven
The pain wears thin on these elastic nerves threatening to sunder. Twitch twitch twist go the muscles and writhing begins. Of this, there is no escape, even in dream.
Unrelenting. That’s the crux. Into the crush, the deep end with deep ones and tangles of myself drowning, quashing, quenching the will. Succumb to the succubus of high wire acts strung within, connected to marionette strings — dance for me, it says.
Will you lay down flowers for me?