skipped rocks through a stream today the opening of a brand new day its frame is in minor decay the bleached wood massed in bone piles, we pulled it from dark beach and built fire in a fenced clearing the
Away from the crowd She whispered her tale. To the cresting waves, To the frothy foam, To the flying seagulls, They knew her soul. They were waiting for her To wash her heart. She left the remains, She was carrying
Look deep my friend and soon you will discover a special assignment for only you The siren song of the bong is strong fuming sacraments to exclusive green parties Tie yourself to the mast deny the hot blast It’s clear-monkeys
Whispered names falling simply off lips, Freckles that ripple on skin, Azure eyes that flooded dreams. Eyes may capsize stable thoughts, Blindly wade into unknown waters, Not knowing awaiting dangers. A siren’s melody put in a trance, A map to
Everything we know, or think we know, comes from an infinitesimal speck of time and space. “Important” people, just random specks of insignificance. Nothing more than Sea Monkeys, fluttering around Sea Monkey world. Everything spoken as truth only reinforces ignorance.