Stories have a beginning and end-
the hero sets out to slay the snake
and carries its head home.
My story is
an ouroboros. It curls in on itself,
the beginning eating the end, my feet
treading the loop infinitely.

Every year,
I walk into the snake's mouth
and find another snake inside.

• Undefined

The storm rides through you.
Watch the clock: midnight, one,
two, three in the morning. The shapes
rattling in your chest
ooze out of your mouth
and onto the page in ink
dark enough to swallow you.

• Spirit
• Soul