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Funeral, scandal,
typhoons in a teacup
bubbling to be drunken and dissolved.

slow down..
you’re giving yourself a seizure

that springs you higher. and airborne
you see so much more;
it’s spaces between the feathers
of a thousand seagulls.

wind, cold breath past your lips
and the dark void of your mouth.

throw up a patchwork quilt for the sun,
speed is the dream
you could pursue faster
than aeroplanes that crash and burn
and more beautifully
than those bruised knights

but you’re too fast for your wings
and you just fall.

you just fall.