There is something spooky about me.
I am certain of it.
Or else why does the thought of you
dying for me,
somehow slightly perk me up.
I'll admit I can not sleep soundly
next to a steady rock
while my thoughts try to dog-paddle
away from this
It was at first just tickling my toes
but now it is
Lashing my bare skin
with it's seaweed colored
tongue of deceit and saying
"I would die for you,
I would die for you,
I've never forgotten you."
Ok, I'll finally admit it,
I'm a little bored with
cutting off the crusts
and filling a wine glass
full of milk.
I want the steady rock
to lie on top me and
crush my ribcage,
over and over.
And instead I give
in to sinking my
eager fingers and
into the hairy peach
slowly sipping out
all of the hidden parts of me
until they go straight to my head.
And it swells like an over ripened
Give me the sound,
Pull me under
Drag me down
I want to remember
what it is to drown.
Tickle your toes. . .
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