What is the purpose?
love is a premature clam
with nothing inside to see.
An empty cave in the water
ridden with stiff eels
tourists ****** themselves through the large-mouth
entrance gaping, but no fish.
A pond,
the torn lotuses
separate from the slimy stem; coated with algae.
Holding my breath
but my head is above the current.
Swimming
yet my body is under dirt and limestone.
Love is a beach
without the sand.
I hear whispers from a shell
and screaming from a seagull
echoing within my carapace;
vibrations floating,
yet I am dead-weight
and love is the ship.
We are the anchor
yet there is no ocean-floor.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 8:49 PM UTC
What is the purpose?
love is a premature clam
with nothing inside to see.
An empty cave in the water
ridden with stiff eels
tourists ****** themselves through the large-mouth
entrance gaping, but no fish.
A pond,
the torn lotuses
separate from the slimy stem; coated with algae.
Holding my breath
but my head is above the current.
Swimming
yet my body is under dirt and limestone.
Love is a beach
without the sand.
I hear whispers from a shell
and screaming from a seagull
echoing within my carapace;
vibrations floating,
yet I am dead-weight
and love is the ship.
We are the anchor
yet there is no ocean-floor.
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