probably my worst poem yet

[madbibliomancer]

somedays you are what people are willing to call you
Sunday I wanted to curl into a groove in the ground
and grow covered in moss

subterranean people are heavy with the earth above them
and the earth below them
and the stone on every side

when they die there is no lightness
they are lead

I am a person living underwater and it’s just the same
if it fools you for a second
and you open your mouth to drink deep
smothered in water it’s heaviness will fill you
full like a sack of stones
the same inside as the outside
if you slept you’d dream of drowning

I am not indivisible I know so it is a mystery
why I am compressed into coal like some
young fossil instead of sharded or disintegrated or gone