Rinse and repeat
scales under nails,
line after line
with white, powdered trails.

Rinse and repeat.
It’s me again,
I’ll give you a kiss
then pluck out your pain.

Rinse and repeat.
Are you bored of this yet?
Do you miss the freedom?
Do you miss the wet.

Rinse and repeat.
I forgot why I began,
this sport is a dream,
I love how you swam.

Rinse and repeat.
Does it hurt, just a bit?
I play God all day long
and I stand and I sit.

Rinse and repeat
as the waves form their retreat
and the bites of another
rouse me to my feet.

Drying Leaves

Browning and holding themselves

with a fear, previously unseen.

Their shivers are more easy now;

in a childish, miserly wind.

Leaning their twisted faces over

a black earth: taunting, matte and cracking.

Any hint of gaiety has gone to

the heavens as steam that now

threatens to growl and scream

into a fitting, purple haze.

Nostalgia is of life and mobility

unrestricted; a blooming, wet wonder.

Fearful of firm fingers now:

they only exacerbate failure;

they pop and crumble and race

to the oily, counterfeit tarmac.

Blinding And Grinding

the lost dinners beneath our feet
that crunch

in their clumsy fragments
defeatist: it’s all over

that blood-red sun is a rain
storm stuck on repeat and

it does so much
more for my skin

don’t look at me with those
dull, white eyes, and whistle

through crustaceans
your old, white song

forgive the chaos you’ve railed
against and been soundly ignored

i can’t speak for these shells
of men beside me but I’m sorry