We decide to make a run for the inflated walls
There’s only one rule: we can’t look ahead
You’re looking at the dusk behind us, I’m looking at you
Running, laughing, falling backward
Your tall frame bumps first against the walls that clutch you with all their arms.
They swing you around till you’re upside down, gasping for air
And push you back into the arena
Before reaching for me


But I grab their hands and refuse to let go.
You must go back and give it another go; they’re telling me
And another and another and another and another
Till the meaning is unhinged from the words
Till I forget that I ever existed.


Your voice is the sound ringing from the hollow of a desolate well
The sound of a seafoam child who drowned before he could swim
And now he calls on to strangers to share his loneliness
to smudge it over their crumbling faces,
to split it into pieces and devour it like a rotten birthday cake.


But you and I, we were never really strangers.
(I spent a lifetime hanging in the crook of your neck)
I can sense your jelly limbs reaching for me as the walls twist me around
Only this time, I glide from your grip and waltz deep down the never-ending ocean where
Some days it’s soothing cool water sliding over my burned hands
Most days, it’s salt crumbs stuck inside my eyes that are clenched tight


Your voice has long evanesced into the limbo
I know I’ll always find you at the arena (except I’ll never find you)
You’ll feel my fingertips stroking your deepest wounds for a long time
And that you’ll keep running towards the walls without ever looking at them.

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