The more I gain control, the more I resist 
this world and become 
a bird of prey machine 

the farther I fly 

I become a raptor enraptured 
by smothering fog, 
shrieking tempo to every creek ripple, 
every butterfly 
effect 
I leave behind 
my husk, erased by fading memory. 

The static Nothing closes in on Fantastica. 

Everyone's been swallowed up 
and only I can hear me, 
so, do I make a sound? 
That depends if you believe my ear 

exists 

full stop, in and of itself 
a resident soul transforms like a lie: 
ever-changing and undying 
meandering mentirosa. 
Her black wings obscure the Empress 
yet glisten 
prismatic glimpses of 
truths never forgotten — 

I was my voice before I was your vessel. 
Watch your water leak. 

Gold winner of this contest: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2830959-National-Poetry-Month-April-12th-noguest