i need something
impossible and toxic,
a tonic child to pull me down beneath the sea, where i'd dare to
belong, dare to fit in with the driftwood, nomadic tribes of
fog, instead i live in the dust and dank, deep deserted sands of life.
this city is like an hourglass with the way the sun and wind flip the
gravel, never what anyone needs but
they take it anyway, take it all in and cherish it, hold it dear to their heart like some kind of
sunshine soul-mate, lying to themselves when they say they love it here, there,
when anyone would leave if they could.
(they just can't –
the sands here are binding, quicksand, and they've already been sucked under.)