plastichappy

That far off beach
My eyes stretch for miles
My toes remember sand, my mind cannot place

The sea rocks my dying cradle
Your arms kindle my pyre
I stand still and hope they will not see, me burning

I am wont of your disease
Peruvian or whatever you are
Your arrow's kisses on my week joint, my foreign tongue

O this lily, within,
I look towards the sky
Everything is above me, a tad behind

What good is it if you can't enjoy
The taste of a fly
The smell of war's rot
The rebirth of the non-luke blood
The water's narrow burrow in the silicone
Meaning: The pen exists and not the ink