wishing well
for years,
and sat here
on my tongue,
in good taste -
with bad water
that didn't run,
stagnent
propositions of
moleria and typhoid.
you disease you,
infectious
feverishly sick
uncommonly cold
all the way
to the core
of your bones.
someone like me
will fall until the rocks stop
at the bottom -
and beat like something red
until this rib cage breaks
the walls
standing around me.
here's to cheers
and a shiney penny
tossed inside
a certain hole -
located near something dear;
also known as a wishing well.