Fishline

A fisherman sails on a boat

Cruising on the green foamy waves

He casts a fishline into the sky

It catches a cloud and reels in the mist

The fisherman eviscerates inside

He sinks into what is now corrosive foam

Excreted battery acid, biting his skin

Like the teeth of a hare

He sinks further into a mound

And dives deep into the soil

Mind muddled, the seeds spit roots

That bind his arms against the silt

Swallows seeds, spits out a bouquet

His air is twisted and he falls back under his boat

With a line and a hook caught in his shin

He cries out and removes the hook

Along with a chunk of scaley pigment

His boat is now punctured and melts like Dali’s clocks

So he drinks it up and pops like a tick