I wake outside of myself
slipping from my body as easily the sheets;
I cannot tell if I’m naked,
or if that makes sense at all.
but I am me.
A courtesy glance at the still-asleep,
I feel no dread or sadness,
though it may be the last time I see them.
Sinking through the floors and walls,
I pass diagonally to the city streets,
overshooting a little,
my chin resting on the tarmac
like an infinity pool,
watching the rigid concrete of my old existence
spill over the edges,
What does it say about me,
that as soon as I were free of form,
able to soar or launch through space,
that instead I chose to go
I allow myself to draw ever-further
to the fiery core of this earth;
the closest thing to home.
The fire is all I know.