poetry at the mermaid

poetry at the mermaid

on a water slide to hell;

a little whisper from a big mouth

with words i can’t retell;

the cold sticks to my teeth

and i bite each syllable 

in a frenzy of disbelief, 

i was not feeling well.

the greasy cup of coffee

and the ash cloud of a sun

invade my breakfast table

as i’ve become undone,

sipping strong-willed fantasy

for a brief moment of relief:

there are buckets of pure emptiness

where i’ve hidden in my grief.