what lies beneath

sometimes i imagine

breaking through the surface

of innocence,

my unfreckled skin

without a single scar,

to see the ocean of grime

lying beneath. the knife blade

would sink into my flesh

like a boat disrupting

the waves--

its wide wake spreading trails of blood,

like my fingers move through

salt water in the ocean.

the bones of my wrist

would be crooked and crannied,

connected by soft, bloody cartilage.

veins would swim around

fat and muscle;

a crab would hide

under the sandy ocean floor,

crawling under muddy organs

coated in blood, not bright red

like cooked lobster

but the murky green shade

of uncaught shellfish.

with one cut,

the barrier of exploration would be

broken, the ocean floor no longer

undiscovered.