The fracture
working its way across your skull,
virgin flesh tasting air
Whispers of thoughts float out
and you cannot keep them safe any longer
People will see them
they will look at you with eyes that know too much
with eyes that finally recognize you are dying on their plates
Dying from the moment
you were plucked from the ocean
spindly legs swimming in air
water droplets abandoning you for home
Alone in tangled nets and fishing hooks
you are no more
you never were
And their teeth close around you
a polished hell to take you deeper
than the depths from which you were forced
In the warm darkness
those lost thoughts sink back
into the leftovers of your existence
Packed into styrofoam boxes
to be reheated, revived
for another round
of living