Yesterday I was told that I was air
inventive and cool to the touch
offering oxygen and ideas to breathless souls

All I was to you was sea sewage
forcing you to hold stale breath
gripping onto other
floating debris lovers

And I was a shark circling
waiting for the moment
your weak grip slipped
the last of dry flesh would sink under currant
and there I was reaching for your perfectly
rainbow arched feet

I pulled you deeper and deeper until
finally I let you slip back into a world
where gravity was your enemy
and I, left alone as a sea monster
for ***** divers to gape at

And here I am sifting through the sand
trying to find purpose for our salty memories
Do I bury them and hope they convert into nourishment for the
algae?
do I let them float to the surface and offer light to your pirate pals?
Do I string them like pearls and adorn the humpbacks?
I could stuff them into the fisherman's cages and
let them surface back up to you
to **** from crab claws

But alas, captain

Until I find a purpose for all of our ****** up
suffocating memories

I'll scoff at being labeld "air"
and harbor those haunting pieces of you
like the mossy skulls I lay with
at the bottom of this dark ocean