I'm in the current review of
everything right now.
When my lungs have told me enough
already and I taste of foul
consequences that seep into taste buds.

The walls were gushing water,
as they often seemed to do, and
I always lay on my side,
left leg crossed over right.
Nothing irregular.

The tinge, spark, of pain from a
resting avocado, I can feel it in the
tip of my thumb. The right one.
You were supposed to be soft,
and full of the good fats.

I can't look at a cupola without
seeing "SEWN". But I guess that's
just what happens when someone
intercepts your point of view.