hands.

on dying early, and identity

to breathe eye to eye

seeing nose to nose

a shiv between rib openings

is my ending, my blood the counter of your tone?

 

your materialistic obsessions

a person to be, cuts, alcohol, your damned empathy

the abrasive rejection of my accepted ending

eye to nose, breathing's syncopated rhyming

 

is my death that inconvenient? 

 

i can tell you, the ocean, eyes to sea

cut between sail lines, i cast myself out

under salt water stinging i learned to breathe

salt in my wound, why do you care if i stand knee deep?

 

nose to wall, sweat, blood, and seawater

i cannot claim to be someone

there is nothing one will ever be

eye to rib, blood and sweat

  

i will die, and will live accordingly 

 

i completely lost myself

and stood with my plunge pool dreams

my ribs seeping, and my body's saline

solution to a problem you cannot see.

 

your materialistic obsessions, id, ego, self

things we'll never be

are you out of time?

do you genuinely think you're unique?

atleast in my hands i have a written legacy.