moonlight rises,
rolling tide in its grave

we try to balance inside our bodies
with eyes locked on black horizon

spinning circles, wearing hats
scratch our backs on green dew grasses

beer cans folding like a fan
sent to flames in reckless fashion

moss as natures velvet
mold in nostrils causing scratches

ghost of tire swing pendulums
and dirt as common ashes

tossing voices through particles
hand creases soaked in secret passions