Shipwreck in a Bottle
i want to go blind.

everything would melt into mono
chrome like piano keys until the
chords began to bleed into each
other: one note, the only song left.

sleeplike: deep and dark and
warm—that is how i would go, settling
at the bottom of the sea to watch
the starlight fracture on the surface;
the shrapnel lingers over my eyes and
lips as the blur (my shroud) falls into place.

swollen me. vocals squinting out
sounds of arms slashing the waves'
crests and pupils choking out lead poison of
moonbeam bullets that soaked through:
purge of my own. red as the underside
of a slap, sticky beneath my skin, i am
folding into myself. push down harder to
flatten the paper edges—the creases
puffy instead.

the shower of sparks, the flash of
lightning (not followed by thunder). i am
out like a light. i think it would be like
falling asleep, looking up at the splintered
star reflections.

first: i must drown and i
fucking hate the sound
of growing
cold and blue as the water.