idylles

i don't get it

never did

when my neck bloats and turns to red

and i suffocate

and my pupils drown in strange salty water

and it all becomes blurry

is it a sort of human rain?

a means to an end

a need

come to think of it, my soil's run dry

my skin is pealing

and a fistful of hair, i remember

autumn is late this year

i fear he might not even show

i fear i may have swallowed it while gasping for air that chilly day

mouth open wide

dry tongue stretched out

like a branch

that's when my lashes started falling

could i be autumn in becoming?

i do not get it

never will