Fluid.
Revival.
I expose myself not so keen on survival.

I do not wish if you kill me.
I will remain forever immortalizd in scriptures buried many miles under the sea bed.

The atlantis crystal spell of binding holds the sea weed to my name.

A short story of gestures begins to pour out like a game.

Intermission seems to hold you because a climax you can't claim.

Will you push through to the end, or in the middle walk away?