Digging Deep

Water on the Boil

The breath inside of me is the ebb and flow of the sea.

Your sister’s death has forced a meeting with your own mortality.

On this day, tomorrow weighs less than yesterday.

My brain is on fire with the thrill.
But I’ve worn holes in my dress and the tempo is making me dizzy.

No illusions left to bolster your defiance.
You are dead to yourself.

On the lip of despair, you cry out loud, Not This, No More!