inhumanely human

of amphibians and other slippery things, sure and unburdened by grip and gravity in natural suggestion.

when youre born with two clammy palms and wake up shivering in streets ruled by traffic lights, walking the things with barely more awareness of a roadkill: letters, lovers, minutes,

will they only slip past your gasping fingers and crash into the red.

this trembling, drop prone creature born impolitely human but almost reluctantly so...

evolved heartbreaks and permanent pause underwater, always missing and losing... 

this cursed hybrid hide needs to shed into something unapologetically cold.

but is that all i am?

love, ry