Dropped like 50 cents into your wallet for later, passing the time hitting the pay phone. You turn to the pier ancient and stone, fumbling through your coat pockets feeling for your cell phone.
You hate calling long-D, but right now it’s a necessity. You take your call along the ocean standing at the present, wondering where the waves went. An old city bell rings this somber lick through the air, touching upon the ears cuddling annoyed peoples leers. You walk past them letting the dial tone drum at your auditory nerve, letting the sounds penetrate your mind to observe.
You function down some steps, closer to the ocean break. Rubbing your hands together, waiting for the warmth to take. You feelings conduct your pace, a slow and steady race. Waiting for the rose to thorn, the sea swells against rocks where mist is born.
You stop and look out at the water, a storm is seeking land. And yet you look upon that storm with love—you give it your command. You jump onto a rail, the line between the firm and wet, and you balance upon that rail, brushed black by white turned Violette.
You spread your arms and smile, in denial of your dying love. And fall down toward the raging sea—Heaven sent from above. You smash the water with loosing gasps, and rapture all around. Of water swirling temporal doom your hearts first beat at ultrasound.
In drowning you’re alive, the struggle helps you survive. And as you give it all away, your heart beats further from decay. Your veins can take the pressure, your conduit charges—a refresher. You breathe in water, to wash your lungs from the inhaled bull, and as the salt washes away the lies, you finally open your eyes.
Dropped in the wonder years, sea of brine and You change gears.