the estuary brought new life tonight;
the brackish water burnt the secrets
right out of our pores. this morning
i looked out into a positive world, for
a couple of moments, until the sunlight
burn my throat like the drip after
snorting a substance. i may never get
the chance to look again, so maybe
i'll cry.

this is so hard for me to do. my plastic
hands are having so much damn trouble
writing this letter. i can still taste the
bleach and i can't understand when i closed
my eyes to all of this.