Layers [√]

[ on immortality & poetry ]

if i can be anything,
i would wish to become a poem

made up of soft lightning, old bones
modern magic, lost communication,
artifacts of language, and insomnia
forge in handwritten fury

a representation of words
that turn into a hundred similes,
each as luminescent as water,
transparent yet deep,
with a monstrous underbelly
of hidden meanings

a foreign language spoken in
a thousand different tongues,
prophetically aesthetic in
its volcanic state of
unfamiliarity in your senses

a prison of emotions that hums
within the atomic space
between your fingertips,
friction against texture,
lovely when it is uninterrupted,
but lethal in its poetic awakening

to be both a blessing
and a curse to mankind,
that's how i want to be immortalized