a musing: written
December 6th, 2023
as fiction

i'm running on about an hour of sleep. the flocks of locusts swarm above me, their beaks indicative of the meal they crave. am i the target of their assault? nature always seems to be a thing of beauty only, to be admired and not felt, until it slams its fists into your chest and takes the wind from them for food. i can still breathe. i believe they crave elsewhere. the swarming globs of cytoplasm and proteins in my eyes dialate and constrict as i stare in disbelief at the birds. disbelief of what? their existence? i knew clearly of the existence of the class of Aves and yet their presence struck awe into the valves of my heart, startling the muscles into contracting faster and harder until i was breathless merely standing there. i suppose in the end they usurped the energy they sought. mine, yours, mine again, and yours once more. did it really matter whose it was? it all leaves you to eventually return to someone else. i bid you farewell, dear life that is so precious to the machines it creates, and i hope you do better with this energy than i. the columns of energy and irons and blood in my lower chest tighten, and i am allowed to life once more.

when my existence becomes that of the feathers that give the bird flight, i have no hopes to cling to for what i may be or what i may do. i know i will always serve to the cycle of palpability, and this is all the comfort i have ever needed in my existence. i only hope the journey to the bird's stomach will be one of content, to satiate the chemicals and mechanisms that define me as i am. despite the knowledge i possess, the flesh rules my mind.