I enjoy long monologues on the beach,
the warm grains and broken glass
beneath my feet. I can't help,
as dazzles of sun,
drizzles of spitting ocean
make everything
unique.

Hold your breath, children.
God is angry as the tide
rolls in high,
and rolls back deep.
He beats cloth into drapes
and wets the sand.
Once dry.
Cheeks as cherubs,
reddened from cancer spring.

Medieval statues and the moat is free.
Emoted servitude as you architect.
Hold your breath, children.
God is angry again, as father
treads water. Splash panic.
Too wide-eyed and bushy-tailed
to realize the spring Hell.
Of summer decline into
Autumn's work.

Speak to me in truth and I'll know by tone,
I enjoy long monologues on the beach.
Eternal sunshine,
no spotless minds,
as back is beaten by angry
tides.
Speak to me in ruth-less-ness and I'll know by
shone,
weather the weather, children.
He can't help his maddened drink.

I enjoy long monologues on the beach.
Wistful nostalgia too delicate to breathe.
Potent as ocean.
Tides are circumstances,
symptoms bearing no relief.
Bury me at the crest.
Flotsam and jetsam,
sea foam all alone,
no pretense.
Beat me, daddy.
It's okay to hate me.
You made me hate me, too.

I describe us as the autumn -
Crisp, as the morning breeze grazes against our skin,
Colourful, like the leaves falling gracefully from above,
Captivating, as the sunset's glow draws ever closer.
But behind all that magnificent splendour - decay

You raked up all the leaves
wiped your face on your sleeves.
Your sweater is not thick enough
to keep out the breeze.
The breeze turns into strong wind,
blowing away the leaves.
Autumn has never been
easy to please.

You shoveled away the snow
hoping the shivers will go.
You're missing a pair of gloves
your fingers have froze.
The sky is grey as snow falls
down on your uncovered head.
Winter has never been
for the living it's for the dead.

You cleared away the debris
that was from the last winter storm.
You don't need those long sleeves
because it is warm.
Birds come out to sing of love
they build their nests.
Spring has never been
a time for rest.

You can feel the heat suffocate
and the sweat stings your eyes.
Yet you won't remove the sunglasses
what do you want to hide?
People are staring as you struggle
they're so confused.
Summer has never been
a time to show you're bruised.