I want to be the storm.
to process the energy of a star
nerve static built in orange spark
rebel against the trolley
to spite skin
revel in this pelt of hail
free to be visible
Not the calm before.
to stomp on eggshells
bleed their core yellow
snap security under my heel
run the white of eyes
this weight to fall piercing the inner membrane
spilling out helpless to gravity
and laugh
Not the clean-up after.
my voice expanding across the sky
certain as a mountain crevice
where footing is placed
no alternative
my decision
finite
Not sit here
silent.