I'd imagine the scene of them taking me
as something comically hostile
the familiar sound of a body bag
mistake for the sound of a joggers waterproof sweatpants.
They wouldn't know how hard I bit
until lunar looking bite marks appeared on their
chalky lifeless soul sucking skin.
The tides would be slightly higher that day
because my soul i ssomehow conected
to the rhythmic flows of the sea.
My passion for hysteria
enraged in the breath taking flows
of salty waters.
My focus would be far removed from the scapes
of the terrestrial world,
into something far more beautiful and real
and that body bag they'd try to carry me in
would be just like 14 cans of baked beans
into a sorry grocery store's plastic bag.
And just win they think they've won.