write not to me in prose
write not at all
for the words will fall
upon deaf eyes
the fragile blue
no longer existant
in pools or waves
for all that remains
is sand
the dry desert i created
for my empty cadence
that hangs poignantly in the wind
too soft for the wild predators
who once tracked the sounds
of tormented seas
red and crashing
into the boulders on shore
until they faded
until they too became sand
and the heat of green fire
selfishly lapped up each remaining ounce
until all life was foresaken

dead, dead, dead
the sea is dead!

the tendrils of salted sea greens
long forgotten
the coral and the budding life
now dry
frozen in the sand
and yet there is still hope for rain
where once again
the sea can pull me in

take me back
to december fires
burning in your eyes
before the flames had climbed
their way into my arms
licking at my skin

burns unhealed
scorched by your sorrow

bring not the days of wrath
for they shall fall
upon listless eyes
and cold skin

how long before i burn again?

The Darkness overwhelms thee
Consumptions of the Soul.
                         Sensations
                           of Negativity
   Forever I Go Cold.
                    Thoughts provoke The body
    Against all outer will
                    Euphoric pains, they oddly....
       Forever Freeze The Chill.

Melting in time,
    Frozen in an image.
      Devastated by my own disposition,
               Dying.
I have seen my soul melt in my own,
             in my own.
    with Concrete bones, It Suffers.
        I comfort myself,
                discomforting others.
    Parasites exist.
     They have never existed.
       I put them In me,
      They have Never existed.