Beach

Into mind-spaces truth blooms secretly

Thoughts are waxy fish in a monochrome sea.

Moss on old treasures; harping blue of it‘s riches

Sea-surge cleanses doom-gripped gull from angry sludge-fist.

 

Tears in the tide pools, laughter on the waves

Graves and wombs in a swirled whispering vortex.

Redemption washes o'er all but me,

And my sickness delights in my pale world’s stagnancy.

 

Nightshade; my mood, from dug holes in stony rugs

Raise up sticky scents on an envious breeze.

Sing life and hardship on vicious king brine.

Submerge me completely dark waves.

 

Gritty complexion rolled smooth as religion

By wet warmth and bright cold and top-sweeping breath.

Thickened trickles of wonder and barreling thunder;

I am the shore of my soul. I am the edge of my self.

 

I dare not explore the oceans before me,

For fear drowning the waters I still and stir.

For fear of knowledge beyond my comprehension.

As I cuddle my sickness on this familiar beach, I am alive.

Reviews

[Emily B]

I am the shore of my soul. I am the edge of my self.

sometimes one line will make a whole read worth the experience. These words did that for me. The work is stunning overall, but I'm in love with that line . . .

[reema]

a very nice read... gud job!