Take me down to the lake past noon
Do as you wish as the toes go numb and the fingers roll into cerulean.
I live to clutch this air of pretension—even just for a second—that cerulean owns.
Sores charred into my ears like the embarrassment of getting caught, you sit there at the dock, with your astute eyes, judgment laid out for all to see, they tell me to swim. If escape is what I am after,
The boxes come out from nowhere, dipping their callous blades into my tranquil skin.
Though fully anesthetized, soaring up, at a rate similar to that of someone falling off a bridge is a feeling of ecstasy.
Without soliciting I was able to achieve my dreams; yet as it happens this peace
comes over me.
Through the pain of mortality comes relaxation;
take me down to the lake past noon.