Because the Writers Club seemed to like it

[mathemagicalschema]

The toothsome barnacles
bite into me
singing to my blood the stories
of storms and tides

I over-salt my soup.
My fingers are stained
brown with the
olives I suck
to stay out of dreams.

Comments

[kaberett]

I have FEELINGS about this and absolutely no sense of how to articulate them.

Thank you.