never said

May 8, 2017
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strawberry ringlets,
paint my lungs with good intentions
declare me an organ donor
harness the “out there” and
slice between my ribs,
stripe my bones with
a gold leaf pen.
the dock has become
a wooden foundation of a lie
a series of metallic notebook spines
strangling a diseased tide
bleak existences
staring out
it is anything but subtle
denim and
cherry cough drops -
maroon rainfall
reflects across this moving entity,
a standstill -
on the edge of the wood
and feeling the kiss of originality
lesser of the two evils
a blackened mind
all of the things i never said

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