sun-glassed and standing upon
a salted and sandblasted shore
i suspect a storm is on the rise
stationary and plotting rebirth
as the clouds form blanket shadows
reminding us of the safety of the womb

faded, forlorn, and forsworn
falling flat upon the face of uncertainty
could we escape these
excited escapades
in favor of multiplicity?

the beat is a distant and consistent beast
driving us with heretical meditations
and unearthly interpretations
back and forth through an empty church
as the high priest speaks
words measured in a maniacal melody
leased but never deceased
in a circle of love’s feast

fossil passion
repurposed, re-armed
and made new
is it showtime or showdown?

eating what’s left of these lucid eyes
as a table-top troubadour
laments fallen stars
are we just abandoned puppets
rippling and rushing between
sheets and streets
laced with fool’s gold?

the girl on the water
the beer in my hand
and the kitten on my lap
the symphony of summer is coming to an end
and life, genuine in existence
seems a million miles away

sometimes one good night
is all that matters