Beach Suicide
Stones have replaced my chords,
overlooking the lighthouse, dreaming,
is the oyster shell I consumed of life
gluing my insides frozen in time.
I must have forgot how to scream a long time ago now.
They will not remember me,
even the dearest passions failed to see.
Medusa wouldn't be so feared and infamous,
beauty and terror in all her forms,
if men saw how helpless she looked at a ripple.