Little Vessel

Little Vessel I don’t have much meat on my bones, My body is made of tiny stones Skim them along the river, Throw them like there rain falling ever downwards. Just don’t pretend you ever doubted how fragile you were. My breast are little peaches full of ignorant hope Like patriotic America, like a caner cell under a blind microscope They feel the warmth your arms bring and they long for more Throbbing above my heart; old and sore. My legs are twigs of indecision, that don’t know which way to turn When the wind changes they bend downwards, To be back, close to their roots, inside that cool soil; they yearn That stupid worm that is my stomach, twists inside my dirt and stone body Wrapping itself around vital organs, constricting all motion, to the point of no return And I wonder. How do I cry? When I belong to mother earth When there are rivers running down my cheeks, to meet the salty sea at my feet I wonder as it burns my flesh. Where does the acid come from. Where does it begin? And begins from you. It begins from every little bit of bile that boils inside Festering and bubbling to the surface Like raining gold or a hurricane of coins, the silver ripping through flesh As thoughts become sovereigns, currency and valuable to learn. Learn me… inside and out. My little living vessel, is falling apart, is breaking off and re attaching, decaying, falling into the ocean and flowing down the stream. My little vessel is choking; dying, without you.