as-is

never would have left your ether, each nazca line of the brittle earth, every structured fortress inside of your well, would have followed the dark waters through to hell, as we swam through body horror or blistered shipwreck, was some kind of home, and as my knuckles burned blue, you slipped through, into a deep sleep forever, away to otherness, and i had to bury you under the mattress, but i kept you, as-is