Contorted soul exists within its' frame,
writhes in acidic discomfort, shame.
Blood made thin from bottled escape,
salt slides down cheek, tasted on the tongue,
within this hive of life, all is pain, all is stung.
A love lost could never be if never had,
happiness but a wisp broken by blue hued sad.
Frailty of heart begets frailty of mind,
languid visions of despairing silhouettes
reach outward, hoping to remember, begging to forget.
At the center of this spacious cube of life exists one,
neck cranes for another, life is over, now... begun.
The tones of all that is soaked in salt begin to change,
a pool of still, clear, motionless water struck by a drop,
red and brilliant, it spreads, a new start, a new stop.