Bubbly Rust And Mist Yume Igarashi Like the crowns of rough dark ocean waters,
I can appear to leap into air Dance in bubbles and flowing skirts of misty white, As I gasp, swallow only the dark threads tangling inside, Hushing me, screaming with me. Or is it I alone who is ripping my throat? Or is it not I at all, as a shell cannot speak? When bloody sunrise reeks more of dry monochrome Than a cackling silhouette of the night Jagged edges of its liquid suppleness Mock each beat of rusting life. Shattered room inside a cage of ivory bars A shadow bangs on the door, frantic, rhythmic. Do we knock because we hesitate To wonder if we are ready, if we truly want, To step inside? Do we knock because we are too eager To know that we are ready, of what we truly want?
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