seafoam:

I sit idle.

In my curated reality.

Commidified the silence.

Sold the ad-space on the back of my eyes.

Every inch of flesh humming, yearning.

Passion comes in pill form, lust in a bottle.

What did you find at the bottom.

The pill box polished to a mirrors edge.

What horror, to have to see your reflection.

Seeing the same dead eyes you used to fear.

Detached like cloistered monks.

I’ve eaten what you covet.

Burned desire like a match.

It smells the same, blood and fire.

Runs over flesh just like a tongue.

Ive given bitterness to the body.

Held sacred many different heresies.

All to sit by the shore.

Leaving love letters to god to be washed away

by sea foam.