Fish scales.
My fish cry for me, in this world of lost scales.
Scales of pattern, textures of shape, all lost to the ounces the scale permits.
And when the day decides to run, when the scale announces full
And we seek what cries for us
We leave the world, and chase the shapes.
The textures and the scales.
And we fish, for that which cries.
i was pretty drunk when i wrote this, infact, i dont think i actually remember more than the fact i did write it.