He pulses, thrums, and beats inside his skin
drinking silence for white noise cultures,
whirling all-side pressures gallop
sonic pinwheels spitting glitter fuzz
ricochet inward by
the wrong side his ears
thick air turns spark
friction-flame from internal
exertions, he tenses hundred
beats energy inward echo
hollow cadence, rounding
cycles racing for answer
back of pierced skin
He is a drum, holding,
against firesound tides
built of simmered, smothered leaps.
He'd jump the tallest building, given chance.
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