The cephalopod, thank God, seldom lingers in the same boring shape and hue. I am sick of hiding here; And you, in the silent eternity of the sea, will call to me. My arms will move of their own accord, and I will grow to fit the space I hope you've made for me. I long for the madness of a creature who has known what it is to escape itself. When we, alone, together, can finally fall apart.