Alone, a boat on a beach.
You can’t have it and if I can’t have it, no one can.

​

Abandoned, fluid rises and is sucked out from between its broken ribs.
Stripped away over time.
Tides rise and fall like lungs beneath your chest.
Ribs surround you like a cage and mum keeps on calling it prison,
how does it feel to be back there.
Six hour cycles as the accordion plays in the background.

​

Alone, arms raised up out of the sand like a toppled crab,
searching for something but what.
Eleven days or years with nothing but your own mind.
The accordion drones on.
How do you feel in there with your own memories,
it’s hard to tell what memories are anymore.