Discovery

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If I stand up on my toes and yawn, stretching my arms,
I can touch the ceiling.




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Curling

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Your pupils dilate without warning,
like some mad ocean giving away.
And I drown

In your black and swirling waters, sink deep
into your void, chasing the ever dimming light
of your half-open eyes. As you whirl

Your tresses around me, and cover me,
from the outside and the inside,
in lash hard sighs.

And your wild and curling ways, carry me
to the very bottom of things,
Without meaning to.

And then spit me out,
Without meaning to.
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