Exhalation Poem by Charcoal Bullet

You grind its sides
being dissolved under a skin fear
heart is the same grinding stone
and eyes - as if inside you
still live…
pass an edge on nerves
a current resting me against walls
I lose you a breath
and on an exhalation - the death to me is fresh
so I can fly in the sky…
I can fly in the sky on which people do not throw a look
a web in soles of my pupils
I as a full spider, in loneliness of its own paws
I dart the glance in emptiness of corners
The choice is not present
Like a moisture in my dry eyes