Heart hope gurgling
From a gagged symposium
Fused by hollow cheese

This is an eastward trek on repeat.

                                             A tape cloaked in static,
    clicking and turning over itself.

A departed decade's daydream
                                     whirling towards Lands of Plenty.

                                                         With nebulas dot dot dashing into Eternity,
eyes are locked on the horizon as plasmic ghouls
             gravitate and spindle from a restless breeze.

                                                                     Why probe
                                                                     another world;
                                 Let the space jazz
                                 lose your mind;
Slide down the
Wormhole
as asteroids
light the Moon?

In the zone, everything begins to shine.
                                                                          Feel goods
                                                                 engrained
                                                         in verbal tides.
                                                        A tale
                                     abundant
in
sweet illumination.

Crystal clear compounds
Tarnished
With a sloppy Stain

An imperfect existence
Imprinted
Upon pure provenance

Reflections
Warped and wrenched
Into a gruesome
Unaccredited vision

Scrape the crust
Of this placid pool

Retract
Marvel
Bygone hygiene

Crystal clear
No more

Fuchsia butterflies dancing south
of opulent skies
signify yet another year
has come and passed;

There is nothing left for no one
but a crystal kiss upon these rolling hills;

The colors on the horizon
drained of flesh,
the bourbon in this stained mug
licked away,
and the messy red curls
atop my head
lay in piles
on the floor.

Ringing static
undisturbed,
an ocular void
resides in the mirror

When I close my eyes,
I see a serene aquatic view
and messages in bottles growing
smaller and smaller,
melting into the horizon.

I see the Sun
catching the glass' delicate curvatures
and casting amber sparkles
back to the shore where I
stand firmly
in the sand.

For two hundred and forty six sunrises,
the hungry tides
swallowed and buried my feet over and over again
as they cast themselves upon me.
I remained
unmoved
as twilight waxed and waned.
When soft pinks, oranges, and yellows were weakened
with the onset of a deep indigo,
a longing for night
festered
and ****** me into its mesmerizing abyss.
When a single gull's call pierced the sky
his lonely cry called me
to find solace in isolation.
And as the ocean oohed and awed over a cool breeze,
I let it run through me
and did not shudder
from its ghost-like impulse.

I feel the waves grabbing at me to pull me in,
and
I want to give in to their force.
I want them to carry me away.
I want to feel their shifts in energy, and
I want to float atop them
as the Sun shines upon me and warms my face.
I'm longing to be carried to lands not quite breached
on any wave
that would be willing
to take me...

Anywhere.

But I am still
motionless.
Cemented
in ever moving grains.
Forever sinking down into the sand
unable to attain the fluidity
that is
the Sea.