Ill

It’s never looked this sick:

Seasick, to be precise;
Swimming up the stairs
Into a celestial haven
Occupied by thieves//
Marionettes
Into the wrinkles of my mind
Where they will stay
And lay dormant until
The folds of my mind stretch
And spreads its orifice
To breathe
To swallow
To allow

Up on Southwest Green
There’s an exchange of chemicals
Always happening
Both physical and non
Upwards,
Skywards,
I’m so dizzy
And I’m happy to turn a blind eye
And instead wrap myself
In a photo or short text message
Sempiternal consolation

Give me my medicine: I’m sick