Drifting into vessel

The blurred lines of eyelash transformed into Layers of Skys, lathered in their own color accompanied, by the busy beneath.

Souls deemed incomplete burrowed in the Beckoned deep.

We watch them aimlessly aim and have chances to take them.

In some ways we know the clock turns and the bodies glitch the souls switch and the roles insist.

I’ve been a mover and a watcher.

Nothing compares to the moving

The doing.

The light under the skin

The feed that drives

The hair, nails and eyes

I, a consciousness that breaths and beats from nowhere but here.

Me, an infinite knowing blatantly teething for new

Observing and lurking.

When the time comes I’ll plunge into that body, that suit of written chapters, those eyes that capture up close what I’ve seen from afar.

I’ll stretch my fingers and bite my nails and scrunch my toes

I can taste my gums and tongue

so closssse

a pinch of time but…no… deemed to watch for the right life time.

Left to be inspired by the next walking corpse