I won’t break another promise.

Too many have been broken before.

I’ll write it down this time, in words, instead of carvings.

My aching siren heart loves to sing it’s sad song , 

quietly within the walls of a head that hears too loud. 

My toes curl into my legs like fingers to the ground. 

Neck is too heavy to hold, 

sinking like lava to the ocean floor.

Tired and alive, for now. 

Send my warmest, weary regards to the sea men and pirates. 

Bottles named Joanah, and I am a whale.

Feverishly hungry, but never for food.

Nor fuel for the stomach of my grueling inhibition.

No, this is hunger for the addicted sadness, and sleep.