whalebeings

Will I always feel like this?

Like swamp mud

Viscous, formless.

I need warm, firm hands 

To sculpt me into something 

Recognisable

Like a woman, or a tree. 

I wish I was a fearless Roman Goddess

Or an African warrior with my

Tits out. 

I would invite death 

To pierce my soft underside,

And then I’d spring off

On my long hunteress legs

And laugh with my big beautiful 

Mouth.