As if I was to be thrown away as a type of garbage
Or wiped up with a cheap brand cleaning product
Sometimes I feel the urge to play a broken doll
Type of unholy thing
A kind of monster
To be used and slashed
And I can even enjoy that
But
Today,
I feel seasick,
taking an extensive trip
Inside a grey train-boat with wheels underneath it
And the drown rails above it make a deafening sound
That makes me wanna purge bunch of words into this website
Sort of a diary object
The warm salt of life burns my lips with solitude,
which is a word they pretend that doesn't mean loneliness,
but hurts way deeper, like an ocean with dead fishes,
As a mermaid without her legs
Or a tail,
Or a voice,
Or a lover,
As a mermaid without the mermaid.
I feel like I have swallowed myself
And I was a kind of poisoning plant
Or food
Animal sea being
An intoxicated one, with those types of metals and petrochemicals, those things that will kill us all one day
A pesticide perhaps
That would make sense, if I'm a plague or such
Am I being exterminaded this time?
But doesn't matter how dead I may be
I always remain
Me and my remains
Me and my entrails
