Salt.

Slithering through my skin

inch by inch
makes its way down
bursting opening the bubble
the premier cell on the surface
meander, wander
yonder, a crimson state
gnawing to get a base for existence
basis for existence
existence
trickling, shades and textures
sizes and characters
seeking something better
something raw
something juicy
with more news than you,
probably,
droplets of evaporation
sublimation
a Freud theory in disguise
gone wrong for most,
most parts
till it doesn’t slide to my lips
in playful bouts
tasting of salt.
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