the Messenger

lightning strikes, fills the sky

and yet,

"at my feet, licking your wounds again. too long succumbing to the rot, child."

a pathetic howl echos through ribs, snaking past the bleeding heavy heart and soaring onto the winds,

"too long, too long" it mimics.

"and what will you do, child?" her silver beams cascade down, bathing him in the light.

"I will bloom. I will bloom.

what has become of me

you see a glint, light catching a reflection in your passenger seat. you swore there wasn't anything there before, you're sure.

a tilt, ever so slightly, of the head reveals something that chills your bones. your precious box of 700 hammers... how could it possibly have ended up here?

by the time you turn your head back to the road, it's too late. your car explodes and hammers go everywhere and the hammers explode too.

or maybe it was the heavy snow weighing down your footsteps.

maybe it was the beads of sweat and tears stinging your face as you came upon the clearing

or maybe it was the sound of gnashing teeth quickly approaching your ankles from behind.

maybe it doesn't matter anymore, the thought crosses your mind.

maybe it never did.

I breathe, and for a moment I step out of my body

and into an infinity.

for a moment, I am the ghost haunting my house.

and then, all at once, I am myself again.