water well

when i get better,

I'll take you to my water well

I'll pull you by the hand

Swing you by the rope and yell

Doris of the well,

breathe your twinkling drops of death upon my friend

let little spheres level with the moss

Mother Doris of the well,

let them plunge backwards into my hand

my face down ward the empty deep, 

your hand in my hand,

i'll plead, 

"i haven't got much time,

please

please"

The vibration of my heart touches the basin

down below,

i know you can hear me

time will lay low when

teardrops greet my face and pull my friend

mother Doris you take my friend

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳, 

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦!

mush, kush, rugged boots on brownish leaves,

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴?

𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭?

𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭!

𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘒! 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺, 𝘴𝘵𝘰-

she glances back

he sees tears

the second before she falls,

rolling backwards

falling, 

falling,

i'll hold your face in both my hands,

look fondly into these eyes before i

take both of them and make you blind

you don't need them in the water well

you don't need a thing in the water well

and when i get better,

𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳,

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭,

𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵,

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥

𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭,

and i didn't need you inside my pit of hell

to quit your halt each time you range the outkeep,

or to notice the tears and see it be you,

𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭