floating on a sea of blood
born of our heart's sins
drifting slowly while faced apart
in boats of our own skins

like memories dropped on still waters,
we become cognizant of each other
by the echos of our waves

filled with but an anamnesis of us
this liquid plane;
landless space between,
our forms become intoxicated
as if they were soaked in gin
the taste transmuting
from pungency to bliss

churning tides of rumination,
hurricanes of emotional rot
eddied at our shores
from hair's end to finger's tip

soaked, we are
in the torrents of our yearning
waiting for the maelstrom of appetency
to catch us in remission