extinct tongues (a poem)going to sleep is going underseaPoems of identity horrorMay 13, 20262637Sharedigital pencil, my own workText within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedI no longer sleep through the night going to sleep is going undersea I have to float every 3 hours to catch some air I must be the loneliest whale I no longer dream of relatives only extinct tonguesSubscribeShare© 2026 Poems of identity horror. All Rights ReservedPrevious
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Is this about that whale thats the last of its kind?