My flesh in needled claws I am pulled back. Back to the place where I cannot savour the embers of this spider silk night. And I beg. Here. I beg. I beg. My fingers wound desperate through the ringlets of this sweet darling. This ancient. This taste of totem that catches raw in my throat. This fire in inured company. This unheeded loss. This home. This. And I am scattered. Itinerant on the earth of darker ages. I bathe in harlequin lakes, speckled gold with the goblin cries of those hollow hills. And I howl with them. Maelstrom thoughts spew out the tortures of another landscape. And I beg. I beg. Drag me. Beat me. Scour this belonging from my mind. Exile me. Hate me, when all I want is here. Here. I fall, here. I lie, here. I am, here. Here. And still, in all my piteous hope, I cannot hold back the day. I watch in salted ruin as the sun splinters along that dark horizon. And I rise with it. And I run. Blinded by circles of rain that would drive me back into the arms of this narrated blood. I run. Blinded. Blind. Hounded by ten thousand stupid reasons to leave. And no reason to stay.