the wind
through the trees
sounds the same
as the waves
crashing to shore
and for a moment
as the coffee drips
the lack of sleep
along with the
wind blowing
has me uncertain
as i sit in the dark
what lays outside
the crooked blinds
i could stumble
half awake into
the black waters
the sand sucking
at my tattered vans
or my flesh torn
by slapping branches
a thousand thorns
or the salty brine
i dress slowly
a lone spectre going
about faulty routines
speeding headfirst
into repetitions
unwilling to voice
these same desires
only for them to be
disregarded again
the waves rolling
across the canopy
bare limbs grasping
at gray skies in
a facsimile of dream
as i wait for the
coffee to finish
and ignite this
fuse of desperate
refusal to accept
i am drowning
perfectly well
of my own volition
before my heart
explodes in a cloud
of glittery passions
unacknowledged by
the unrisen sun