Falling forever and
doomed to stay strapped in.
Frightful wait.
Expectant feet flail, meeting the air.
Sometimes the landing seems
Tangible.
Always the claustrophobia
digging into malleable skin,
making it right by believing in the intrusive penetration
Pores overwhelmed in a battle mostly fought out of sight
Losing control is glacial: silent but ultimately creeping
Fighting for the sake of the heaving sorrys
Icy whispers and insanity seeking nerves
Attach themselves to any welcoming party
For one.
Maybe the answer to footsteps is two.
4/04
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