Nomads

our home hums swiftly onwards and i gaze over your head at the volcanoes outside our window. i breathe. we are at a rest stop- everyone off, a hubbub of strange words and stranger looks, from allies and enemies both. i breathe. we are in a hotel room, sickly city-air whirring through the fans outside. i breathe. cigarette city centres, lungs grey from the smog that settles over the ancient roofs like censer smoke. i breathe. mattresses migrate together, water runs and laughter sings. i breathe. how my fingers ache for the strings, for the release of rhythm in my blood. i breathe. cloying heat, unfathomable ruins, regret. couldtheyhavesavedthemselvessooner? i breathe. i walk over black sands, sword in hand, needles underfoot. i breathe. could i have saved what we were sooner? i breathe. i breathe. i breathe.