Moments mirror the tides,
Sea sick riding the waves,
Skipped a pond into the ocean,
Bounced from rock bottom a smaller stone,
Cracked glass mixed environments,
Bottled messages turned trap,
Flowed from currents that called,
Perforating worth with words,
Breached the surface of the self,
Found disdain for the reflected,
Evaded with no choice in direction,
Back to the old love of sand and mud,
Real cold solace swallowed whole,
By imaginary scavengers,
There was always color down here,
In the blue that blends to black,
The red which rise to white,
An integral smothering,
And the refreshing suffocation of the night.
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