I went to the rocks
Found my brother there
Drinking on the rocks
He splashed and he sank

I saw my mother there
Wiping off the rocks
She went to sleep
Swallowed by rocks

I stood on the rocks
Waiting for a moment
I stand on the rocks
I stood

We live for the weekends were you scrounge yourself tablecloths sheets and shelves smooth pavement for the ghost of a heavy load we run for the sake of health and we waited for a knock on the wall but what I got was the ringing of a bell
But our prose was true and my eyesight mistreated
Colored in thought my eyelids retreated
Fall back to the fall
I miss what I saw
In come sun and a world on que
Dinosaurs died to make room for something as magnifecent as you

If you're going with the tide, don't look back. Wisps of air will kiss your cheeks. Tiny hands will wash your hair clean. When you're out at sea, and the erratic waves are closing your eyes, let the wind hold your head. Those clashing blues will lull you to sleep. When you reach land dig your hands in the sand. Let my mind grind down great stone after stone. Truth is I'm **** afraid. 18 months of you, after 16 years of me. I don't ever want you to take with the tide, leaving me to be the breeze.

Little ants on a leaf fighting a rippling creek, the little maelstroms spitting it's mist at shaking knees.
    The captain's last stand with his heart in his hand, watching the golden coast elude him. Yet with all his fright and all his fight he feels the sunset soothing.  
    Things will grow and things will die, they will move mountains or sit idly by. But remains the glimpse, of the coast, inside.
  Captain climbs to the leaf's curled tip, quietly going down with the ship.

Sleepless in space. Sewing pillows in your dreams wishing deeply to comfort that will only be seen. Adventurous advisories flutter on, flutter on. You obedient Abraham, you will solemnly **** your son. But not today amidst the peddling rain. Swallow sorrow, swallow pain. You won't be this arrogant pest. The loudest note was always the symphony's rest. Rest. Does the night spill over like linens in a basket? Does the man in our head miss the cue mark, rushing to mask it? Covered in monotony and monopoly. Close your eyes and relax your arms to mend this folly. But we all are brothers and pay for what we wield. No sleep for the kindred, "Let's go out to the field."