by Kevin Hüttenmüller
it starts with a craving in the back of my stomach, barely noticeable, shifting
my point of mass, the kind of existence that can only be acknowledged through denial.
it starts with Saturn’s rings, demolished, the outpour of ache by an open mouth. even the sun
allows for invasion, pushing oxygen around like schoolyard bullies.
it starts with hauling lungs on another mountain just to gasp a second longer. hands fling
to a molten sky, there is consuming, but the other way around.
Kevin Hüttenmüller is a writer and student currently studying special education. They are based in Germany. They can be found on twitter @_ThisIsMyCurse_
Emerge Literary Journal 