awake. reach out. withdraw. return to stasis once again. eat. sleep. repeat. is this how it goes?
forget. reach out. pause. hover at the edge of stillness, air feathers on fingertips. tremble. withdraw. tremble. return to stasis once again. eat. sleep. dream. repeat. is this how it goes?
forget. reach out. withdraw. clench your fingers into fists. reach out again. grasp for something you can’t quite reach. you seek to seize the bliss of eternity. brush its edge with the barest tips of your fingers. clench your hands into fists around nothing. withdraw. clutch your burning hand with your other hand. pins and needles. tremble. return to stasis once again. eat. sleep. toss and turn. sleep. dream. repeat. is this how it goes?
forget. reach out! reach out. keep reaching. touch it. grasp it. watch it slip from your fingers. shatter. flex your hand, grasping. keep reaching for empty air. long to hold something that doesn’t exist. feel, acutely, the ache in your chest. withdraw. shiver. wrap your arms around yourself. return to stasis once again. eat. sleep. toss and turn. sleep. dream. dream. dream. awake. repeat. is this how it goes? are you sure?
forget. reach out. reach out. hesitate. reach again. reach further. allow the glass to cut into your flesh and don’t flinch from the pain this time. the blood thrums hot and deep from the bitter slice in your hand. keep reaching anyway. i need you to keep reaching. you need to keep reaching! don’t let it go. don’t let go. close your fingers. close your fist. dig your nails into your flesh. ground yourself. keep holding on. don’t let go. oh god, don’t let go. don’t let go. don’t— let go. you let go. return to stasis. eat. sleep. awake. you sleep. your dreams ache. this is how it goes. this is how it goes. isn’t it?
forget. reach out. push aside the cobwebs in your mind. you reach out and bleed and let the hurt ground you. the hurt stings cold and burns hot in opportunistic turn. the hurt cries copper tears of blood and weeps out all painful infection. the smell of metal is strong in your nose. you hold on and hold on and hold on. you hold on. you hold on to it and you don’t let go. you won’t let go of it because you can’t let go. you just can't. you have to hold on. now you know what i am and you can’t let go of me even though i cut and cut and cut your flesh. there’s blood on the glass again. i’m everything you’ve ever wanted and i’m slipping through your hands like blood/breath/water/a heartbeat something you can’t quite hold on to. you grasp me, desperately, dreaming that you don’t let me fall, that you don’t let me go. the hunger in your burning hands is stronger than your bleeding heart. you have it, you have me, you’re holding on, you’re not letting go. for a moment, you are complete.
the glass shatters. you sleep. there are no dreams. you do not bandage your palm. your blood stains the bed. you wake up. you don’t feel the hunger. your head spins. you wake up. you don’t enter stasis. your hand throbs. it seems the cycle has ended. perhaps this is love: bloody sheets; an empty space where your heart should be. is this how it goes?
awake. pain in your hand, throbbing in time with your heart. remember.
what are you reaching for and why are you reaching—
reach out.
and how can you reach without shattering me or you or us—
reach out.
and do you know what love is and who are you reaching for really—
reach out.
and when this all comes crashing down again will you at last finally—
remember—!
