I spike my Koolaid,
with *****,
and pour in
too many blue packets
until it is black and icy
and whales of clotted powder
bob at the surface.

I am trying to close this gap;

trying to bridge this form,
and break your reflection
hovering at my hips.

But
in weeks
or just a few days
I have lost you.

The carcasses float to the bottom.

I get drunk
and fall asleep
to a singing blue tv
calling me to the deeps.