ah woulda screamed if the seas wasn’t so deep
if mah throat was held
if ah mahself had thought to treat ah better.
an’ da many white hands shoulda signaled somethin’
shoulda told me what darkness dere was
but often we don’t see things as clearly as we should till they have passed.
we don’t declare danger until the hydra has been summoned and all an all emcompassing fear has taken hold.
ah wanna be close to somethin
in blue and yellows
royal purples too
an dat desire has led me ta dungeons
an here ah lie
cold and scared
– rescued by witches but still lost in sickness.
i throw up
the infintie sorrow that has led me here
the pills, vapor, saddness, anger, neglect, an’ so on
an’ watch it dissappear into itself- swirling down.
an’ ah speak promises of no return- cast spells bigger than mah ability an’ hold to the hope dat one day seekin’ open beds won’t be tramatic.
an’ hold to the hope dat ah can more comfortable
navigate the sea
move past bad magic an’ be on mah own dreamt up shore.