The Goldfish Inquires About My Former Life
What do you know?
I know you. I know you are walking, I know you are having a bad dream, I know your heart, just past the crossroads, you are lying down on it. I know it was a bad decision to leave the ocean. I know you were intent to make one. I know what martyrdom tastes like, it tastes like ash.
What do you feel?
I feel you. I feel you yearning, you are alive as ever under your lab coat. I feel you gleaming under your fetish suit, you wear stockings, you are wet with scales. I feel the bites of the buttons of your lab coat, I feel you quake under them. I feel your gills, I want to pry them open.
What do you remember?
I remember you. I remember frostbite, it cost me dearly. I remember biting your fingers to keep them warm. I remember your eyes, one on each side of your head. I remember they closed because I knew the passwords. I remember there were four kinds–the first one let me in, the others were up to your daemon.