After several days, the boys stopped laughing
at the girls with spoken words and pondered
the words... the silences in between caught up
with them -
and strangled their preconceived notions
It broke
their Lincoln Logs into peaches
and wet noodles. they were flummoxed...
and amusing
to brick walls made of dull
wands.

and mermaids.

the scorpions did not sting
that day.

but rather...
they paused in midair
with their sharp tails flicking
with random poison pooling at the tip
of a billion sharp swabs
of sleep.
their dreams were filled with anchors
and mud suns... They bore into the weevils
of their own minds
and resurfaced as male
but clumped together in a heap
of shuddering.

but less stupid.

Like egg in my pond and a shell
for my skin
i gather where the yolk is laughing best
because the joke is known as a jewel
not a prank. I swim to shore...
not for fear of the deep, but for the lack of women
in my whirlpool, telling me everything
is Life.

for They live on the Beach.

Between the mainland
and the Void
like shepherds with *******.
They've already guessed
Our fears
and whistle gold from brass clouds
like snow.
We long for the eulogy of our relentless
stones... and long to succumb
to what is seen
with a Heart.

Not what is known
with a Lie.