Fishing at the edge of this abyss
murky waters swallow my feet
always wondering,
wondering always
what lurks underneath?

Setting a beautiful net
shiny fabric swallowed by haze
always fooled
fooled always
what will I trap?

Fishing at the verge of this abyss
mucky waters stain my skin
always hoping
hoping always
it will be worth it.

Fisher, you should have known
only foul critters crave beauty.
Fisher, you should have known
only atrocious jaws devour love.

Setting a beautiful net
worn out golden fabric
always loving
loving always
the teeth sinking in my hands.

Setting a tender net
sewn back with hair
always knowing
knowing always
who would adore you
if it is not me?




[Another recurrence of the Devotion Rot habit—spilled as art.
Writings about a consuming love we would love to hate.]