Abstract 10

[Ninva]

my tongue is like a floating boat
it goes no where but drifts
in a direction it should
yet a sailor tries to turn
what could not be yielded
it drives onward
until the car is stuck
in the muck
this luck can never be changed
by the heart that censors
all that means
logic fails within the tissue
of mass that does not sink
we float on that boat
two lips locked
one heart beats
one heart dreams
one heart pleads
one heart thinks
it thinks
it does not see
like me
​