Thanks for the drop
So Seemingly accidental
Kicked like a pebble along this gravel-road time line

I turn and glance a mirror
How introspective.

My ***** cragged shell
My thoughts tainted by my odious flesh
Mississippi catfish have seen better days

I can only swim backward if I’ve  finally seen the danger
And the warning signs come a flooding
Crawdads taught me well.

A clam diving headlong into the sludge
Detritus never felt so comforting

Sand in my eyes
Sand in my eyes
Exfoliate your corneas boy!

Rotten fruit never tasted so good
Spoiled milk and flies
A dog to its own *****

Thanks for the shock collar
The pound
The castration
Hand that feeds
How sweet and tender-hearted
You cherish your convenience

I am a cursed man
Born dead
Alive and dead once again
As time is slowly ticking

I gasp for air
Salt water
Light to relieve me of crippling water pressure
It’s too dark down here

Why is the end of the tunnel above the surface?
I can’t breathe up there

Throw me a line
Yank me away
To an abrasive serenity at the hand of a fisherman in the kitchen sink

A plastic ring will do nicely
Might as well sink and feed my brothers
Might as well think to myself
Rather than lead others

Might as well smudge my words so that no one can read what I wrote
With the needle in my side

My thorns are innate
Yet I wield them as stripes
My fillet is laid
Across the plate at the last supper

My time as a bottom feeder is through

My poems don't have a sentence.
They're vague, unfinished, unclear.
And they certainly don't address the reader,
For that would be unprofessional, dear.

My poems don't have a meaning.
They're meant to be read and understood.
And they certainly don't have a title.
Yes, guidance is not at all good.

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Commas and them old fullstops.
Questions? Hah! What do they even do?
Exclamations? What silly ideas!
My poems don't need you!

Yes, my poems never rhyme.
For what use will it lend?
Yes, my poems never hold ironic lies.
And of course, they'll never end.

it's so hard for me
to open up,
but once i do,
i can't stop,
and people don't mind
stepping all over me,
so i build yet another wall
around me,
and opening up becomes
a mission not even Tom Cruise can make possible.

Legacy girl writes hollow poems
In the petal-pressed pages of her notebook
Breadcrumbs of who she is
And who she longs to be
There is an ocean between the two
Starlight dreamer gazes up at the moon
They weep together about all the many ways
The world can scar a person
The moon looks at her nightchild from a high heaven away
And sings of her craters and how she overcame every one
Forest nymph sits on the shoulders of her favourite tree
Tells him about her day and of the flowers she smells but does not pick
The leaves are whispering gossip to each other
Birds are bringing her shining things
And she tells the birds a story of Icarus
She says ‘you do not have to fear the sun’
She is the sun, and she would not harm them
Not them or a single growing thing under her warm gaze
Legacy girl jumps down from the tree
Crosses the hill and three fields to the ocean shore
There are whales waving from the horizon
And beyond that, in the sweeping red hue of the moment
The girls are close enough to touch

Her hand makes ripples of her reflection