I feel you, a black heat sucking at the edges of my skin, tendrils in my spine, threatening. So warm, the promise, the inevitable. But you’re not allowed here. This is my emptiness. You’ll hold on, though. Neither of us is good at the let go.

I plant my feet in your chest and shove, rakete madchen back on her limitless, on that underground observatory bullshit. I kick and surge, silent in the dream sea, letting innerspace pulse past corporeal boundaries. Alone in the iridescent dark, I feel you moving, gravitational shifts pulling gently at my limbs. Always you.

No kind of savior, not your killer either. All these hundred eyes, still every kind of blind I could be. Wash them clean, soothed in the dark where I can dream. Unspool reality and watch the threads drift apart in front of me. It’s time to unknow and relearn, fingers drifting through.

Or maybe it’s time to let go. Let the threads do what they do in an ocean and drift along with them. It’s been so long since you’ve been weightless, baby, let it go.