a well-starved leech on my
mind. An ore beating
through the tumultuous sea of
my stomach. I struggle to reach
reach out
and
lift
lift myself
to
freedom, upon that boat -
oh, almost so… tangible;
oh, almost a light at the end…
The boat pushes faster,
h
harder,
the waves licking desperately at
it’s splintered hull for just
just one
one taste
one salt-splaying,
spliced
taste
…at the end of this disembowelled
sewage pipe called love.