full to bursting. a leaky pipe, strained edges, about to rupture. heavy and thick and pregnant with the weight of it all. pushing and turning and throbbing. i think my eels have grown without my knowing them. i'd pulled away from them, thinking their physicality couldn't exactly capturing my present state of mind, but they return, as always. thick tawny muscle draped over my shoulders, pulling me down. engorged in my stomach, rockhardened and ironwrought with their bleary eyes.

maybe i should think about them more often. i wonder if they feel it too. can feel the rotting of my mind, of my body. maybe they're in pain too. they don't run the same way any more, don't dance through my veins with a fury, lighting fire in their trails. they sink now. i don't think they can drown, but maybe they can. i love them. i've always loved them. i don't mean to let them die. i guess i don't mean to let myself die either.

an angel has to be prepared for death, i think. maybe that's why i'm a guardian angel and not a proper one. whored my bones and teeth and fingernails out and clung to lifeness a little too closely. i'm tired of the constant fight. there's always something i need to push up against, all by myself, my fragile human body straining at the task. the eels were gone for a while. my brain wasn't clear enough to see them. but they're coming back. and maybe we can come back together now too.

back to the lake, where they first jumped out at me. past the boulders, past the weight, past the life of it all. and we can jump and play again.