salvation

veins
dig and
twist choking
arteries through
your skin craving a salvation they will

never find because deceit tastes like cheap
metal and your
pulse tides
in

and
out with
the tantrums
of your lungs and
salt stutters in the creases of your lids

as you swallow your irises black and
orange and tell
yourself
that

it
doesn't
matter what
tomorrow brings
when it stalls with dreams and decays with time