Water sinking in.
Breathing in the lack of oxygen.
The over use of metaphors that aren't methaphors at all.
The sand fixes itself between the spaces in my teeth.
Cough the particles up into a painting of shame.
Silent. Clean. Free.
Freedom comes in chains of guilt.
Feed me your love in spoonfuls.
Gorge me with your need. My need. Our need.
I want to take the air you breathe and secure it in a jar.