by Megan Spreadbury
I want my body to drown
to back down
and after its first mile
sit for awhile
under the ocean
block out the commotion
of nails gripping skin
tearing at the fine print within
stop wondering
why breathing
became so difficult
or if my mind lost a bolt
somewhere in between
the solid sheen
of sweat lingering cold
and settled in my bones
every time blood crept down the walls
kept pace with my fall
to the ocean floor
boarded up, asking for more
of my soul to give
not an inch was left to live
where it begged for breath
holding on to death
dancing around fire
in foul specks of desire
where if the ocean caused loss
my mind was the moss
over splintered wood
where puncture wounds could
wrap me up in salt
my body grappled against the halt
of tormenting decent
wishing time would repent
and spent mistakes wouldn’t snake
their way through the decay, take
their fine words
and waive them into the wards
so carefully sealed
but appealed to the blood dripping
to the door, waiting
as it creaked
nostrils stung on the scent of concrete
burdens so heavy
time felt bad for me
the last torture
of meaningless closure
were the satisfying thoughts
lined up with the loss
of fuel in my heart
which wouldn’t start
and decay in my soul
where only drowning let me go