My feet are doing all the talking today. 

Leaving this tongue, this breath, these lips

idle. 

Please come, fill my

time. 

For we know what comes of idle

hands. 

Please come, check my

ticks. 

These old forgotten boardwalks

squelch in the moist forest mud.

I salivate. So many sordid

thoughts.

I am Water’s plaything, begging,

please, please

play with me.

I do not come

quietly.

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