Comb my hair as waves come crashing beneath us, locking us into time and space. Heart's closed but my mind's perceptive.
An endless, bottomless pit, starving for the unknown, or anything that remotely fills the void.
Dreading the silence of my own existence, I stare ahead.
Then- you ask blankly: "What are you thinking about?"
To which - I blink slowly, and say "The waves".
The ones that keep echoing in my mind.
So you keep combing my hair to quiet the sea.
A thought