into the dusted sand
far below the edge of the concrete cliff,
a crevice of camel colored creases.
I lie here a jumbled mess,
a decomposed abstraction,
seemingly in pieces.
But as my eyes move in moments
slowly towards the water,
the expanse of ocean,
ahead of me,
I feel the weaving of my skin
twisting, tinging, tip-toeing together,
tiny portraits of myself transmogrifying,
alchemized and microscopic.
Who knew a hand or face could be so small.
And as my skin stretches and connects,
the wind soothing the heat of the minuscule contractions,
I grow momentarily into.
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