I’m a growing
Icelandic shark
all grown-assed, I can
admit now
I have multiple heads
one that smells of
merlot and noir
another full of cold-
blooded diamonds
& often times under the moonlight
it seems, as if the eyeballs
have been sharpied
inside the sockets
I’m still learning how
to hold a hand and
walk through
or drink the leftover
blood from the skull
of others
my hands don’t warm
me and I like slipping
out of myself
often, leaving no hands
to take the lead &
puppet me
my dreams feel like
being sucked into
the sky & I lift, but
it is so quiet.
shhh…
I can hardly breathe
please, hold my hand.
it is such a pleasure
to be not dead and
walking through
this place, with you.