Do what you have to.
An unfinished poem
still means something
to me.




I want to be left alone.

I have no more words.

If life is the poison
**** is the antidote
I feel it flowing through my body
Cut it open like a cannibal
Gut it with my finger
Grind the pound of flesh
Sew it back up
Take it to the head

And she lingered in his heart,
Like the voice of the sea, that stayed for an eternity in the ears of seashells that lay on a sandy shore.  
Her breath stayed on his skin,
Hitting him every time harder than the last,
As if the waves' foam, slowly sinking in the damp sand,
Lingered for a lifetime on the surface.
Nothing but beautiful seashells remained
As the storm took away serenity of that golden sand.
Of those perfect waves.