They don't understand this land
They don't know that it is water
They don't understand this body
They don't know that it is quicksand
They don't see this air, see that's it is water
They don't know that it is water
They don't understand this body
They don't know that it is quicksand
They don't see this air, see that's it is water
The constant feeling of being violated
their fencing in and closing out,
eventualistic abandonment of a fading corpse
is a crumbling pile of a thinning crayon
On a drawing flapped off by the wind
and sinks into the lake, forgotten...
You!
e5
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