getting there

conclusion is a word to describe the grand finale but I can feel

as this all winds down

the world building

energy coiling

preparing to recommence

reinvent

recollect

I am regaining a sense of stress the sort that comes with the creation of grace

puppet strings spring from my joints but they lay tangled around my feet more a hindrance than a method of control

the lines were cut long ago

my hinges are twisted and turned over in my metal palm

too broken to be bionic I have been holding my breath for centuries and the relentless expansion of my lungs

followed by their shrinking in the sun

shriveling despite my clenched teeth and bubble gum cheeks

my complexion has never even approached the coveted blue of suffocation

and I have watched women with nothing but water without a sign of starvation

survival surpasses satisfaction despite deep rooted instincts

it takes a certain sort of person to burn out their tires on a dirt road

but if your breaks can't handle the loads packed ever heavy atop your shoulders you'll have to trudge on with sturdy boots and steadfast disposition

drop-kick the pistons saying you'll miss them and wear the engine round your wrist to tell the time by the sun-shine-sweat of your arm

grease is a god-send when you're warding off demons drenched in sea salt wishing for a home in your tear ducts

transitions have never been easy for me

I've always watched the rear view for fear of forgetting how I got here

I've always been more afraid of forgetting the nightmare than falling asleep, because at least you learned there's no difference between flying and falling as long as you never reach the ground