Subaquatic Immobile Five-Eyed Crustacean Mutation

This pond is making me myopic.
I can almost see the murk, the slippery moss that lurks down here,
the fallow fish footfalls of soundless swimmers, pale roots and
gray grubs stretching upwards to the putrescent underbellies of
blind, bloodless creatures.

The dapples that paint scars down my slime-encrusted hair
caress my face and bespeckle me with the sequins of marine
stench and tackle, war paint to please no gods but the secret
stones lurking under the mud. Mud and sun polarize my very
existence; both have tattooed elemental patterns across my eyes.

This place blinds me with eyes. They are everywhere, and I
surround myself with their glints. The willowy stalks that steep
like dead tea in the canopy of this place accuse me of crimes
I dare not commit. In this tiny panopticon, my thoughts are
tenebrous reflections that go nowhere and penetrate

nothing. This stagnant pond represents the whispers and the
wind of mosquitos’ wings as their mother sings her cadences
through the tepid hum of obscurity. I will crawl up one day, and burst
through the sky. Whatever beings wander above the mottled light,
dancing, will feel the clutch of my advent, hunched and sagging.

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