drink.

just fill it with the silence
free from this grip
of incessant cluster
and response;
noise and the tremor
clatter inside its skull.
can you hear the breeze alone?

would she let me drink
the ocean? one day?
suck it dry until
the sand tore at my throat?
like my cornea ripped and shredded?
like my lips raw and dry?
my skin a mottled mess of our catastrophe.

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