Shall I ascend to solitude,
enough to spy
Put my metal parts to practice, and
train my reason to speak in
I presently think in blinks of
our lives a fucking flip-book filled with phony animation, as
though we’ve never been anything more than a
pair of paper dolls pretending to breathe.
The surgeon lied. I am not bionic;
should’ve demanded a synthetic heart
Mine is afflicted with fissures, and
I feel the blood leaching like so many earthworms
smothering my organs.
My body is not a temple, but a churchyard—
your burial ground, and there’s no space reserved for
me. So ascend I shall,
Kindra M. Austin is an indie author (her books can be found here), a founding member of Indie Blu(e), and a writer/managing editor at Sudden Denouement, Blood Into Ink, and Whisper and the Roar. A Sagittarius Valkyrie from the state of Michigan, she likes craft beer, and classic big block muscle cars. You can find her filing through the souls of the slain at poems and paragraphs.