Your Muddy Boot

I think my heart is surrounded by an acidic mucous.

Vile and green and thick.

Coating my lively organ and denying entry to all those who may try.

So I become neutralised.

I become numb.

My ph rests at 7, a holy number to some, but for me - my unoriginal nightmare.

I feel plain, like dull water that lay in swamps and dare not be swum in.

How I long to be like that salty ocean who begs for embrace and receives it willingly at every call, but I know I am not her.

At least not yet.

All those who enter may tread across my coated heart and I shall not feel a thing. The blisters and thorns and vile green still protect me in phantom.

The weight of your shoe is merely but a feather touching stone compared to the rest.

Be warned not to stick to me, for I know it shall hurt when your muddy boot must be ripped from my flesh.