Chapter 21: the lake and i

shitty poems about dogs, drugs, fruit, and faggots for losers like meWords: 811

it was too late for anyone to be out

twigs crunched under my too-small shoes and i shined my phone flashlight at anything that moved

it was cold. it was summer. and it was cold.

the wind seemed as though it was trying to push me back.

run, said the stones

run, said the wind

run, said the trees

come, said the bottom of the lake. let me hold you. let me love you.

run, said the trees again

run, said the wind again

run, said the stones again

come, said the lake again. please. please let me have you.

the ripples inched towards me. I inched towards them.

the bottoms of my shoes are wet. then my jeans. then my waist. then my shirt. then my neck. then my head.

then im underwater

and there are rocks on my chest

and i feel a sweet sting of a bite to my neck

and as the last bubbles go out

the lake and i are one