sink

hello sweet faucet
of life

hello little leak

the drip of death,the drain of the dying

is constant,is muted and just barley

sinking its way into my skin.


it seems endless because it is endless.

barren

"I am inhabited by a cry.

Nightly it flaps out

Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.

I am terrified by this dark thing

That sleeps in me;

All day I feel its soft,

 feathery turnings, its malignity."

— Sylvia Plath