The waves roll heavy on themselves complaining.
The dull roars of aches and pains
in the thighs and buttocks -
strained muscles flare and batter
the breakers ceaselessly
knowing nothing of sanctity or fear.
They beat senseless themselves, until they bleed over the reflection of the moon, rippling in its own wake:
A mirage of ghostly light. Contempt of solidity.
When the particles split they see two eyes staring blankly in the night and still the waves roll painfully.
YOU ARE READING
Confusion in Underground Clouds
PoetryThis is a collection of assorted poems, detailing one consciousness extending and swirling into another, and another, and another.
