chemicals

it
is chalk white
and porcelain smooth.
i spin it between fingertips
my forgiveness pill

and the storm is
purple opaque
cabernet  thick
with slow wet legs
that
climb the crystal
to escape
but only
scrape
the walls
 with trails
of sanguine
scratches.


and i've bedded
 the cement;
replaced
my pulse
with stone
and


unhinged my jaws
to swallow

fishhook thorns
and
throw away
the roses.


 and i owned
my onus home
 as a silkworm
 spits its house
of silk;
a frizz cotton pill

of possibles
on the outside
while
  it sits in its dark
and awaits
the warted boil
of a watery
cemetery.

darkness has been my home
and I
a slave to
salt waters.

it seems impossible
to believe
these satin pills
could save me