Drowning in this water,
I sink deeper.
Down, down, down.
The air I once breathed:
Absent.
And taking its place:
this cool, clear liquid.
As I fall farther into this
Cold, dark, forgotten
Sea,
My veins fill with ice.
I freeze.

Drifting.
Down, down, down
Into this piercingly bitter
Abyss.
I am solid, like a statue.

But suddenly,
My veins shatter,
My skin cracks.
A million scales form,
Shimmering blue to silver then back again
As the angled light hits them.

I inhale and exhale the salty water
My legs come together
Stuck,
And yet as relaxed as ever.
Like wearing flippers,
I swim purposefully into the dark,
With the ability of rising to the surface,
But the hunger, now, to dive deeper
Than ever before.

I wish I was
Strong
Enough

To do something
Stupid
On an impulse

To be
Mindless
If only for a moment

To not be
Afraid
Of the aftermath

To be what I always wanted
Free
From any chains binding me

I wish I was
Strong
**Enough.

Some days,
I wish I were
A jellyfish.

Brainless,
Spineless,
Speechless.

Floating
Along the waves,
Through the seaweed.

Feeling everything,
Yet not caring
About a thing.

Focused
On that motion:
Push, glide.

Not getting
Anywhere important,
Just here.

That sounds nice.

Numb
As I mumble a quiet,
"Hello."

My eyes drift away
My mind too
That day

The beating figure
My chest holds
No heart here

This ****** mess
Could never be a heart
Not again.

Broken
The Hate
Slides down my cheeks

At the corner of my eye
Like a stormcloud
My tears rain

The swell when I swallow
I cough
I hack

I need a reason
The reason
You're there and I'm here

So far away.

I am alone
For right now.
And I do suppose
That is the way I like things to be.

Alone for a moment
Everything alone has beauty.
Yet put together,
Perfection begins.

Though people then begin to ask
That age old question.
Perfection is what,
For in what you see perfection I see destruction.

For in what you see beauty
I see nothing of the sort.

In the ground I grow
I grow plump
I grow red 

Once I am all done
I am yanked out of my home
Yanked out of my warm dirt 

I am taken with strong hands
Placed in a basket
Where I meet all of my brothers

We will all have the same fate
We are baked
Slowly dying

We stain the hands of our murderers
We are no longer whole
We are gone

Bright orange strokes
Painted on
Cover the top of the canvas
As your stare travels down
Reds, purples, pinks
Splashed on the rest of the empty space
A sunset is what I picture
Closing my eyes I can feel the heat of the sun
On my face
Shining from the sky
Art is the concrete imagination
That we are always searching for