The water inside of me

creates a riptide, a vortex of brewing.

A dangerous seething weapon.

The liquid that I am

 wills my bones to rise from deep

within their marrow.

I have no absence of worry,

I feel no absence of tension.

We are a clinging species,

a kind who moves with a smog ridden

veil over their emerald eyes.

An all-smothering kind

that is leading our mother to atrophy.

The muscles that propel me seem to ache

more frequently, as

fists clench with ease I feel my insides stir, 

yet the squirming jolts suddenly cease.

I pause.

A rush of stillness leaches into me,

I pause.

Irises fixate on two palms

Cupping nothing but the air surrounding.

I am reminded by this familiar sight,

I am reminded that my body resides in this

fading space.

I am reminded that I am,

That I was made to move.

So I do just that.

I fling myself from moment to moment

Tip-toeing round’ the latent bits of green dampness I find,

and residing there for hours on end.

The liquid that I am rises from deep within,

wills the marrow in my bones to

Run,

to activate my tactile senses and

meld my naked body into the

ground below me.

I will nourish you,

Reign me in, eat me whole,

But first let me dance for you.