Prompt TwentyThree : The Beaches

 

wrapped caught struck stuck fraught
don’t sleep but bear being awake ?
sick
I feel sick
these days wrought with insanity and bold things that break the littles
occasional boughts of clarity
what could I make of grains of sand that blow  whole sand dunes
as I                       knee deep in wet            stuck
half a mind in each hand             skin flopped at the thigh
ripped out of coherence
flapping in the wind
gurgling
w           w           ait
wait please
but all they see is the gore
where my finger nails peeled apart
and dugpoked childlike
at the echoes of your thoughts
cavernous I am
cold reaching as the spillage ensues without me
racing ahead to nip a fleck of ankle
while I
hater of falling realise that I am simply
stuck     still
singing caged fruitless fanciful forceless
fucking afraid
and I’m the insane one still
for having a heart that throws itself on walls
and paints pictures of pretty places in vein that turns the eye deceased
broke back deadly
locked so long
waxen wings angled always to the firepit and never to the stars
for I breathe you in
and you pant me out
lost on an endless beach
where I will surely drown

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