Inviolable

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published I stand on the edge, chasing ghosts soft as smoke, slick as oil, slipping through my fingers before I can close my fist. My hands reach for light that shatters, for chains that should bind but dissolve on my skin like mist. Freedom does not lift. Storm thick air honey on my tongue, a taste too rich to swallow. Barely breathing, a body that fights my will, I wear belonging, faked flesh a perfect smile stretched over fractures too deep to mend. Pain does not mold me. It lingers, a slow burn along my spine, a whisper at my throat, something dark sleeps in my chest, waiting. What stands in my way? Everything. Nothing. carve my thoughts into ruins, rebuild from dust, only to watch them crumble in my own grasp. Do I crave destruction, or just the savage relief of shedding this skin? You call me lost. Maybe I am. But I know this your salvation is poison, and I will never drink. Too wise to bow to my own myths, too weary to outrun them any longer. And here, awakening. A truth I can no longer choke down, splitting free from the dark. I clung to lies, but truth, unchained, does not spare. I want the fire. The sky splits, a jagged wound of light, air peeling open in waves. And the world gasps in my wake. Because in the ruins, I might find what I have hunted all along. I'm not there yet, but this I know with certainty: I will never wear chains I did not forge myself. So here I stand, unbroken, unfinished, too fierce for your cages, too wild for your prayers. I am your creation heat, breath, storm, pulse beyond your grasp.