Quick Sand

image by sitka

Cheque point
the narrative for when the soul
comes calling
we itch fro here
scratching the scabs of loose skin
and tracks made by yesterday's sin
Our eyes bleed forward
The memories
we hoist on our back
Turtle man
Torpedo emotions
The world spins
our seesaw selves
stumble to our feet
Fingers clotted with dirt
lips cornflake dry
water is a mirage from here
I am quick sand
in this chequepoint,
my knees absorb the dust
Flag hands
Siren eyes
Help me world i'm falling.