Is it not the most desired thing
before we perish
Clutch I do
sea foam greens.
Bite their curls.
Gnaw their wrinkles.
Grasp that ghost.
It slips so fast, and then I sink.
Deeper than the southern flow,
or that dirty one way out in mid east denial.
My eyes burn every day.
It’s almost like brushing my teeth now.
But I try to do that just twice.
Mistakes are made,
when you don’t gain eye contact.