Underwater

Submerged.
Encased in mercury.
I do the reach around to take my own temperature.
I prefer coffee enemas and my water torture to be ala carte.

I remember prom. The white tux and Michelle’s peach dress.
I am at a loss for words. More of a wallflower than a wildflower.
I’ve run aground. All of my excuses cut from the same dirty washcloth.
I am tired of coming up for air when everything on the surface is redundant and lacking depth.

Emerging.
Covered in memories.
I shove my fist up my own ass to see if I’m running hot or cold.
I prefer Patron "XO Cafe" Coffee Liqueur and my bartender to be without a sense of humor.

Charles Cicirella
12/31/2014