I traded ***** pixels, sold my soul
for a bathtub full of this cold city water,
to let it dampen the dissonance between the long talks, screams, and silence and
wash my memory clean.

I severed what I just ****** could not untie and floated north
to be lifted to the sky-island rooftops and above and
finally feel light.

Instead, my skin is crumpling like trash and
still I find my fingers crawling down my throat,
depressing,
the only way I know how to release
all the things I swallow whole
and let sink without bubbles.