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breathless, still beating

We have run out of air.  

Frantically rummaging through particles of dust, 

hoping to find a residue of space

still uncolonised by time. 


Blessed be the souls that wait for instruction. 

Tortured by the axe of patience,

As it cuts through flesh left unattended.


There is a rhythm that visits,

Uninterrupted by state - mindless to condition. 

Where breathing outshines purpose, 

and purpose thrives without meaning. 


How does one put into words a kind of peace that should be unlawful? 

One that incapacitates every bone into a state of paralysis. 

An impairment that can only be described as love. 


How does one describe hopelessness? 

The kind of despair that reminds us that we are in fact bodies of water. 

Exhaling oceans of salt moisture, 

Stinging the pores of our hearts. 


How does one know when? 

When does one know why? 


waiting. 

Breathless again, but we’re still beating.



Listen to:

Tawo x Jordan Rakei

Breathe x Alfa Mist

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