The ocean never cared, only carried.
The universe never felt, but swelled.
At the start must have been a **** fine time
to be alive,
but there then is the here now.
Nostalgia proud.
Feasting on the delicacy from
a moment of childhood blur.

The rapture is not waiting for you, nor me.
The rest of them neither, just entropy and ether.
A dalliance, daily fawning.
Morning stretches and yawning,
two moments of apex excess.
Then the dusk rusts the sky,
belts tightened 'round younger necks.
Begging to be bled instead of sexed.

Every margin scrawled with the cat-calls of handsomer men.
Opinions stolen from anonymous ponderings of "Remember when?"

The fates would have us conclude, due to their rules.
That taut strings fraught with change are messy wirings.
But if a slant rhyme can still give your skin ******,
Then perfection for its own sake should be dismissed.