If I crawl, will there be
a loop around me?
If I yell, will there be
an echo of tears?
If I grab my heart, will there be
a burst of blood?
If,
if I breath, if I frown, or if I smile, will there…?

It is all dark, all blank, bright, my eyes,
My eyes swell, swell and bleed,
My throat cut, slash, bam,
Please, please grab the knife.
Because, because, cough...
My body, still, full of blood, why?
I do not hear a thing.

Am I blind? Am I? Are you?
Am I deaf? So do you? Nodding?
Answers? I cough, saliva’s dripping.

Then I crawl, a loop around one’s neck.
I yell, all silence.
I grab, reach, dig into my body.
Right Hand as a shovel, left hand as a claw.
Itchy, itchy, I find my heart.
Scratchy, scratchy, I close my fist.

I breathe, I bend, one’s skull kisses the ground...
Knock! Knock!
All!
All blank.

He walks in the rain
All by himself
Injured, humbling along the road
Raising his head with mouth wide open
Is there a sound
Only the clicking from the rain
Does the wound hurt?
Red is a burn, now it is cold

He falls
Into a pit
Brown grows all over his body
A camouflage of nothing
He stays still
Thinking
Before everything stops functioning

A flash with two shadows
Whipping his brain
A shout, far, small, disappearing
Then is the rain, red and warm
Then is the rain, black and cold

Cold, as a piece of marble
Brown, ***** as an abandoned doll
Where is the light?
The switch is off.

Sometimes, he owns an ocean.
And occasionally drowns in it.
No bubbles, no eyes, no one
is looking for the ears.
You protest the ridicule:
“There must be fish! It is the ocean.”
No. Is it?
Who is there?
There is only water, flipping back and forth.
Does it matter?
He senses a blank space
strangles something,
or nothing?
And he runs,
or stops?
It is the wave of his ocean;
Rolling up and down,
frying the darkness,
And one meal, and second meal, and so forth, and asking for nothing.
He swims with a belly full of emptiness,
Webbed hands and feet and he drowns
with a twisted face:
a nose on the eyes, two mouths on the ears.
Then he breathes in a knife of silence:
……
Slash! A marsh of crash
knocks on his body.
The pea pod cracks,
a flash of pain rolls down his nerves,
rocks his flesh.
Two mouths for screaming, one nose for a startled breath.
Breathe!
Breathe.
Two meals in and thousands after.
He struggles.
Every time.
Someone are struggling beneath him.
Water washes off
their faces. Almost his.
Already?
And one face, and second face, and so forth, and bellowing for something.
He breathes, only he breathes.
And he breathes
after he kicks, yells, and rejects
with no fangs, no strength, and no menace.
He drowns. Occasionally.
In his ocean. Sometimes.

“I am sad”. The bubbles.
They are alive and throws
The ripples here and there.
“I am sad”. Still. Still.
Is he alive? Tik. Tok.
He is sad. No eyes.
A sack of ink. Heavy.
Sad. Words fade away.
Two mouths. Glued.
He drowns.
He ceases.
His heart. Bump, pump.
His blood. Dip, peek.
He listens,
as no one listens.
He knocks on the door: “I am sad.”
He falls,
the first time.
He floats,
the first time.
He melts,
the end.

Then he wins a sky.
“Can you drown in a sky?”
You point your finger.
He nods and drowns.
No wind, no mouth, and his face is missing.
He floats
and breathes.
Breathes once, twice, and so forth, and continues.
“I own an ocean.”
Air shakes.
“And I welcome you.”
Air trembles.

He floats in his sky,
above the ground that does not belong to him.
Nothing stops him,
and he sinks upward.
Simple. Simple.
He rings the bell.
The air vibrates.
And he stays
in his purest solitude,
above his darkest loneliness.

And he stays.