Eels

I’ll get a tattoo of an eel
for mystery and origin
in honor of Freud’s bane
ironic obsession with
dick shaped animals and
an overactive scalpel
but it isn’t the mystery
it’s the plot twist
an excuse for self-deception
I live in negligent opposition
of what makes me
and regimented chaos to conform
eating time as a commodity then
panicking when I’m forced to stand still
itching for the freedom of
nonchalance and cavalier fantasies
yet my life is full of things that demand my attention
eels would never live like this
slipping into the Sargasso Sea
Taylor told me once that I was an enigma
and I wanted to bathe in the recognition
I’ll return to the sea and consort with the eels