The steel between my thighs is lightning, and the breeze on my back is my wings. The blackness is an oil spill of indigo and cosmos spread before me. I is fire in my lungs, and each breath feel like it almost want to drown me or levitate me. I is riding so fast, I hear every conversation of every winged thing that prevail in the night. They gossip and laugh, and it shudders a sparkle into my spirit, and I can go faster. My skin is glowing, and I is levitating over life, over myself and the hurt, but then over the trees and the streetlights.
