It's not Tuesday
I hear you say
I believe that
Does matter anyway
Good lord
The facts are not real
So get ready for incredible speed
I say things that you cannot believe
But get ready
For stuff
That
Makes you
Feel
Real.

All things must die
Even the beautiful rose
Must one day wither
So cutting those
To give them
To someone
And make them happy
Is better than
Them withering
On the stem

I love the flow, not the rush,
I cherish the spontaneous, not the forced.
I love the natural, not the imitation,
The gentle breeze, not the storm.

I adore a ripple’s soft caress,
Not the crash of towering waves.
I embrace tranquility—
I am peace.

I welcome what is meant for me
And release what is not.

green whisks of sea
and brooms of foam

sweep smooth the sand
of broken spokes of starfish sticks

of seaweed
and bleached sand dollars


common notes of the ocean throated by the wind


just beyond the wake of the boat
she rose grey green in the morning light

and slid beneath the dark water
she broke the surface twice more

before the boat’s pull
and her own power

put her at a distance
from me

~
Unusual and cloudless

This slippery world

Today is still contagious

Here is heat, here is rain

Here is love, regardless

Shadows in the scaffolding

Look like a broken alphabet

The sun in its anger

Just won't set

Life and how to do it

Perfectly absent
~

Alarm bells are ringing
Red flags are flailing.
Impending danger.
Hysterical behavior.

Is this the time to run and hide, Or stand up and fight.

Footsteps are approaching. Paranoia know escaping.

Your heart is pounding.
Adrenalin is raging.
My chest is restricting.
My pace is quickening.

The memories are flickering.
The torment is deafening.

Unable to speak now.
Unable to breathe.

Triggering and trickery,
Cheated my years

Fighting to relinquish My deepest fears.