sailor

so he replaced his retinas with gaping
wounds and asked me, "can you see?
i only want you to see"
but i told him the scars were
not worth my pains, i must preserve
sit in stasis because one step might
pull me under

two-step, we danced through bleeding halls
in search of cars and bars and gravity
dreadlocked, dead-bolted
to extinct notions of forever, nothing
goes on that long

so i told him the risk was not worth the
gain, but maybe it only looks like
that from this side of the glasss

and it's true, i'm scared. a pattern of doubt