I am closer to the sun out here
a blink is a futile attempt for a reprieve,

purse and lick of cracked lips
only deepening the damage

I blink again, this time an SOS
an ancient code that no one sees

the heat has turned me mad
believing I can send for help

doesn’t this happen at sea?
to desperate sailors who drink the seawater

the same happens when you are too close to the sun
water evaporates and madness is left

lost, desperate and desiccated
I’m a crazed desert sailor, drowning in dust

stay out here too long and become
sullen, with sunken cheeks

sitting up straight telling stolen stories
at the table set with dehydrated delicacies

a prune like her face, a dried apple like her ear
stored too long and now hard to touch, sharp to feel

brittle, razor shards that cut your mouth
that slice your insides and slaughter your innocence

I spit blood but it falls on dead eyes
I cough, a clot lands on pillowed bread

looks just like the family staple conserve,
freshly bottled with chequered lids

I choke but keep my elbows off the table
I can’t speak with a mouth full of blood

I blink again to no one