Asymptote
A thousand fragments of me
plummet to the Earth and scatter across the land.
One lands in a dumpster.
I tell myself I dont need that one anyway.
Another, in a field of soft grass and facing a sky the color of the waters in Bacuit Bay.
I hide from myself in every crack in a sidewalk.
Hitting the Earth doesn't scare me anymore.
I am the one who jumps!
The one who learned courage through self-abandonment.
The one who mistook freedom for violation.
And the one who turned destruction into proof of my own brokenness
An infinite being ripping itself to shreds only to find itself an asymptote.
What am I running from? What mud crusted part of me is laying somewhere in the Everglades playing swamp witch to the locals and scaring children?
In the end I will have to collect the pieces anyway and put them back together.
I dont like littering.
