I am desperate for cascade.
Water on bare skin.
Clean off this fuel oil.
I made it 20 days.
I’m bleeding again;
Flesh wound seepage.
We few left clinging cry out.
Blood is bait.
Wounds heal slowly:
Decide where to drift,
Where do weapons hide
From kind intentions?
Sun pounds, stars mock.
Shark flashes to bite;
Depth becomes sinking.
/ W B Kek
