the bleeding phoenix mutters this

change drives

the unspoken bargain

i called myself a songbird

now i rest to listen to

one-hundred and eight tolls

on my perch of kindling

change blinks with the eyes

of a newborn god

it will be hateful first

like all truths

of self, of sacrifice

new wings span out

translucent flames

licking my pillow

stagnating in my memory

i hope the next morning

tastes of dew

or of placenta

where envy matured

from ambition to wanderlust