WATERED SONNET

A bodied river. Sleep embodied dead float down a body like it. River,

if I am also physical, is that the picture. Do we really find it scary. Maybe sleep is all the body

wants. Maybe I’m too quick to admit it. Is this separate. Is it touching is it feeling mine with a

body not mine like a metal heavy earring - shining, tugging the head downwards by the gravitied

lobe - or is it mine. If metal, I can understand the winter freeze. Prefer it as a body or prefer it as

part of yours. Does it sit on a bodycore like a stone. Does it big stone on the soft belly. Oh this

sitting on the soft. Ahold, walls pressed against the beauty lies. Behold who’s firm; a real

tougher. A chewer. A chewingsation piece. Name it Everything. Give it him’s. Make him hot.

Find him slicked. Make him mean to Make it real. Want

to find the house. Find it. Take the bath. Drink the bathwater. That's no sleeped river

water. The body can be drank from wherever since ever has nothing to do with it.

The mouth, no special place. The bathwater, water. The water, pained. Find it. Pain

is a constant swimming. Pain is waterproof! Is that what holds us, Pain. If I’m still, can Pain be

holding can it carry can it water if I sleep if I’m still I’ll dream to carry and be rivered.