ZCUM

My face distorted in the waves of the puddle below me. A true complexion for my disposition. A state of flesh separating from bone, muddied sobs ebb and flow upon a fractured shore. Perception guided by medium disguises the beholder. The retching comes first and then my body is seized by uncontrollable sobbing. The lacerations…

The missing innocent terror that attempted to distract me from this gaze left a sinking feeling that nostalgia often does. I’m familiar; recognizing and being recognized. The narrow slit, that has sheltered what exists within the cracks, just ends up expanding. Soon it resembles a coast eroded by the shit desperately clinging to it. Some…