Subterranean

When I was a serpent dive bombing the sewage lines, nourishing on the broken dreams of the citizens

I amassed an impressive bouquet of spiraling memories that churn throughout me now

I am well fed with nowhere to turn

No love to return

My petty lies have burned

I’ve been keeping my eye on the Atlantic tides this year

As I believe my future exists in the remaining sand crystals our great mother ocean leaves to the banks

Though far be it from me to assume I’ll make a difference with whatever slack that time has graced upon me

Lately, the mirrors have been revealing a reptilian mannerism, casting doubt upon my sewage persona as mere reverie

I’m feeling very much like a snake

I am without a doubt

Cold to the touch