05/18/24
The head is overseas, swishing and swaying.
It sunk to the bottom, where a TV was playing.
It was an ugly flick, the TV’s displaying.
Limbs disembodied, vile and blood splaying.
The head felt a kinship, the same horror it was carrying.
It thought of the earth, the life it was straying.
The TV was safe, repeating but decaying.
The head looks up, hopes for a trouble worth staying in.












