.....

bottomless without a thread
 he who wears the name assassin in my skin
                                                     to block the country of the air
                                                       from the country of the ground
                                       his pain in my stead, unwanted
                               how footsteps crack the palm


                                     history falls off of me
                                               and anoints others to talk
                                                   their colors into me like lead
                                         and waves me in the ocean's face
                                              like a strangled traveler


                                     bottomless without a thread
                                                on the nothingness of progress I ascend
                                                      soup, an asteroid