…For all I crave to do is scream.

For going beyond that means drowning

and I’m too good at that, I can do it in any monochrome dream

and achieve the burnt sensation of the nettled sting.

…But one day I will forget to breathe

at the vital moment and swallow air that they provide

so willingly for my testament and my will to leave

to choose my own side.

As I pull myself down and allow the sea to rush into my lungs

I want to leave you in charge,

for you are the piece of me that doesn’t care

and doesn’t treat the festering, growing sore of many tongues,

licking, tasting and swallowing the acid discharge

of my own torturing mind prepared to trap me in its lair.