blood is thicker (without water)
breath is stuffed with heat and flames roar against the edge of the dying throat, ocean of fire burning across the sand.
parched sky and wrinkled body. wilted petal and infertile soil, cracked and solid.
if not for the steps to be tread by my sparking sole, i should even beg for saltwater to soothe that scratch of sandpaper.
it is the sickness of the clotted brain as the curdling blood pumps thick. it is the sickness of the the lump on the shoulders, stiff and dizzy. it is the sickness of weak-willed fatigue.
so save your harsh, aching song! your prayers must be silent. still, trust that they will be heard. they must be heard. there is no other way.
if you see the sapphire twirling around a spring; her cold, splashing relief! close your eyes. trust your silent prayers. trust that they will be heard. they must be heard. there is no other way.
if you hear the sapphire and her sweet song; her cool, fresh breeze! clamp your ears. make the prayers louder. trust that they will be heard. they must be heard. there is no other way.
