the moon seeps like a patch of milk

spilled on a night hatched on silk.

the memory of a message— brute, nasty,

short— on my mind like a red scratch

on yellow wallpapers.

misfired launches, bellowing paunch

spine curved towards screenlight with

sloths sinning on its haunches.

the taut veins on my arm

writing warm tales of selfharm.

i'm trying to measure the water level

of the bathtub while standing in it.

no wonder i suck at sinking

no wonder nothing floats my boat.

~ ajay

30/8/2022