I could write forever about all the ways you can kill me,
The first is the sea.
It is a trying thing, to remember how one person loves oneself,
In contrast to the affections of their mother.
We often stand as people and chuck our problems into the waves,
Harmonising our troubles are sounds to soothe our souls,
Numb our small minds limited by God’s kiss,
To not feel the pains of a man stumbling on another woman,
To not feel the pains of a human closing shut forever,
To not feel the pains of an argument playing the same hook,
The sea can just blow it all away, can’t it?
Until I met a certain fellow who could use the undertones of an aquatic world,
And turn it into a monster.
Who threw the duvets of the waves over my sea-bed body whilst I lay on a shore mattress,
And drowned in a salt ridden meal, you’re a great one child,
You can take the aquarium of fish to prick me, sting me, munch away my flesh,
I’m sleeping with a shark.
You’re not a good trespasser on my soul, I’d like to prosecute you,
But Daddy can vouchsafe that you do not have 8 rows of teeth,
Smiling across your plains,
Look at my shark throw out his gaze across the aquarium of females
You can take the stars away from me,
You can take the moon away from me,
Could we make this poem more typical by saying
You can even take God away from me,
You can take the clay to mould me,
You can take the land away from me,
Strip me away from the air,
Leave me hanging with no gravity,
My one promise of a human, you can take a sea’s lips,
And uppercut it into a Glasgow smile,
You can let the waves bleed on me,
Then leave me bleeding,
And whilst I sleep,
Drag me slowly into deeper waters,
Man, you’re good for anything. Anything at all.
Don’t engage with me.
Meanwhile, the sea still gazed gently,
A wealth of liquid potential for the shark to come up and eat me,
Deep in the folds of its quiet rolls,
Up a scale and down,
Pretending to soothe me.