My body floats on the still lake water
as if I was a weightless piece of trash.
Nonrecycable and sent out to nature to vanish forever.
Helplessly, the white seagulls would fly over me,
circular in pattern, then the grey skies followed.

I begin to count each white seagull with their black, beady eyes, 1, then 2, then 3,
I lost count as my eyes became lazy with the evening sky.
It burdens me so as to why I started to grace the surface of the water in the first place. I could not fathom a reason or contemplate a thought as to why my fate led me here.

I became a floating vessel of skin, blood and bones, then I began to take on the murky water and sink.

Am I being erased into a watery grave and by the hand of some unknown entity?

I swallowed my last breathe of life. Slowly sinking to the bottom of the lake.
My mind erases the watery scene as I close my eyes forever.

Then I awoke in my own bed!!

It's transcendental on another level,
You're my lucky star,
Want to walk on your wavelength,
and be there when you vibrate,
For you I'll risk it all

You tie my gut in knots
Never expected this in my plot
Twisting my lochs with
Nervous fingers locking
Hands with you is magickal.

You tie my mind in knots
Its like a roller coaster lost
In space the comet's frost
Ignites a shower of colors
Cascading across your eyes...

You tie my heart in knots
I pray it doesn't clot my
Thoughts about our
Dreams about our
Kids about our
Means of getting by...
And I love having this in common with you.

**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy.  As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures.  Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being.  Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the *****.  If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself.  **** your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses.  Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge.  **** sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man.  Nevertheless let this not ****-faced you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion.  Touch yourself.  To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches.  Neither be cheeky about ******; ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist.  Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness.  Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity.  But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings.  Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness.  Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself.  You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end.  And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should.  Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** *******.  With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory.  Stand pert.  Die in the attempt to be boozed up.

I can hear it slicing through my brain,
like a sharp, stray tune of imperfect melody.
It tampers with desolate whimpers
A cry for attention
My contoured skin is peeled away
by those words

"Never will I be,
Pretty."

If I could just cut it off
like excess skin
like layers of flabby fats

If there's a liposuction
for dark thoughts
If I can tuck it
away from my tummy

I'd do it in a heartbeat.

so many bodies lie
rotting and I’m sick
many hands digging
holes in the ground
and I’m sick. I’m sick
and tired.
I think of how you
used to be, and the
weight of the world
squeezes my neck
till my heart splatters
like red paint
on an empty canvas.
I’m sick, and I let you
carve abandonment
into my flesh.
I’m sick and I want to
sleep where the bodies
don’t sleep.

Can't. Won't. Will not.
I see you there. My weakness.
You aren't always there. You pick
And You choose.
Heart bump. Instagram. Dread.
Same old game. Can't grow up. Can not move on. You're always there. Waiting.
Apathy. Desire. Fear. Loathing.
A cycle of reincarnation. An atheist Buddha. The same life. Feeling new by it's blistening intensity. Just raw.
Festering and sterile.
I do blame You. For everything. But I won't walk away from You. Depression is obsession.  I'm consumed by You.
Cold. Can't see. Can't think. Blood moving eerily. Playing Axis and allies. Can't speak.
You hit me the morning after. I don't like myself. I'm late for work. Again. I dissapointed my Father. Again. I Made bad decisions. Again. Even this sick soliloquy, is  no therapy for me anymore. You watch me. You'll stay for a while. Your face is painfully expressionless. Your eyes dull. You'll be back again. Like the cold winds and goosebumps. One leading to another. Fading, for only a while. If I make it this time I'll see you on the other side.
And if not, at least I'll, go in the light. Even if hell fire is all I right.
Maybe You'll be there waiting. And you won't ever go. I'd miss you. I'd miss you so.