Gruesome
Everyone believes in mental anguish.
Like seashells clogging everything nice.
Gruesome last bits of seaweed.
Blah.
Everyone is generous as they claim.
With their last life boat.
They want everyone to clamor aboard.
So that it gets weighed down and- no survivors.
Burden.
Unease.
As that little boat wheezes its last wheeze and starts to turn sick.
Everyone is on their last life boat, some days.
That’s either mental anguish or seaweed I’m spitting out.
When your life boat gets so full it’s like a gruesome cannonball.
No one is moving or even squirming anymore.
Burble.
It’s gruesome.
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