Differing perceptions, we divide.
We stumble through the numerous next rhetorical back-hands;
with magnetizing animosity, once again we collide.

Flame on flame, the heat of your tone burns me
because you're so unfortunately locked dead inside
and in I, you've discovered a key.

Toes occasionally submerged between the small bubbles, reflecting off the moon above the sand.
I walk the end of the map, where the ocean pours off to oblivion, your heart clasped within my hand.

I paddle out into the rapids, my last woven strengths carry me
tirelessly overdue, with courage & trial
I return the dead-mans chest to the sea.