After days of deep cogitation, I gorge my throat with morose songs like water filling a void. Songs about arid shores with no seawater. Songs about disconsolate birds with broken wings. Songs about cities without sunset. I clench a candlelight to my heart trying to burn my past from within. Hold a scissor to my hair and slice through like sacrifice to a moon god until each cornrow becomes a portrait of a man drowning underwater—mouth unfurls as if to say I am sorry, you do not deserve this which is happening to you. In the shower, my body lacks fulfillment like half-eaten pizza. I bury my knees on the bathroom floor and watch the water cascade a blue sea. The room becomes an ocean of memory with me drowning beneath.