Black Lungs


I wear old coats of treason and

Smiles made of brittle silver on the Cliff. all

the Fish talk to me as if I am who I say I am.


They gobble it up one by one and I

hide away in the night with my words

Burnt into my lungs; oh it's getting

harder to Breathe!


my mind is convoluted. pyramids

that are

Built on mountains of pain.


And deep in the ocean,

Under the heavy weight of the sky,

You might find who I am.


I am a Fish looking at the new fellow

up there on the Cliff. He'll never

make it with those black lungs.


I didn't.


I do not own the photo.


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