I am a victim baby
Why don’t you come and save me
From the places
I trap myself?

~~~

Little primrose
Sagging under the weight of her thirst
Satiated by someone else

Prostrate for the drops
Rolling down the back of her throat

Those jewels that coalesce on the tip of her tongue

Stretch out
Back to picking skin from tv remote buttons
With images blurred in the background
Thinking that you’re back now
With your stained forceps
And your green nails

And your phone that stays out on blanketed, uninhabited couch
Lying deathly vacant, collating smudges of dirty ground & peeled, inorganic compound in the thrusts of your impatient postmortem examinations

Faced with a fleeting realisation
That none of us
Are free from dependant relations

Appends to the soil
Relinquished

Seeing moonlight through the blossom
Out of bloom