I've yet to find
more comfort in life
than when I sit
by the river, alone,
headphones in,
blasting some obscure band,
drowning out the chaos
of the world
in three minute intervals

The bittersweet view
of the still water,
shopping carts acting
as sunken ships,
the captain obviously
denied the cliche
of destroying himself

he's nowhere to be found

Like me

Plastic bottles and grocery bags
floating aimlessly,
remains of something
once so satisfying,
now nothing more than
a potential act of homocide

I pray for the animal
or fish that makes the mistake
of giving in to curiosity,
more than likely,
the cat will get
what's coming to em'

It's still beautiful though,
despite my racing thoughts,
despite the decay,
both internally and externally,

it's still beautiful

Such is life, I suppose

The destruction of beauty,
the beauty of destruction

Both, ever present,
eternal,

*and breathing