The gift of sand
in your eyes -
blessed be you
who might slumber
through thunder.

Shoes stretched
out from all of
my steps

Sea waves are
turquoise muddled
and abandon the
bones of those
they swallow.

Growing
              Teeth
              Words
              Up
              Tougher skin
              Together

Growing
              Tired
              Distant
              Old
              Alone

Perhaps I saw you when
you swallowed the sun and
you plagued the place
you called home.

I was not your home.

Your moon crawled
slowly over them while
they shuddered to think
how you made them believe.

I never believed in you.

My shadows had forsaken
the grounds, my blood
coursed through the leaves.
The golden dew never stayed
and the crystal frost never came.

My swollen tongue has derived over time and the spacing is deliberate.
I've acquired a mind cunning and venomous, ****** for its immaculate canyons.
"Welcome to the Lottery," they said, the snares and the eyes were plenty.
Restraint and conviction aside, any place outside of my throbbing mess of an entity was nowhere for me to be.
But this made me the culprit, the messiah, and the victim.
The slayer, the lover, the slain, and the fighter.
The refugee, the all-knowing, the patron saint, and the living dead.
All of whom could digress that I would never escape such an untimely event.

There was no response to my oncoming tidings, biddings, and affairs.
Although, I can tell you I was found amongst the flowers and the sewer rats.