i've started to write again, just scribblings of fragments that run through my mind and then develop for better or worse (i do). feel free (please) comment, i like the (honest) feedback.
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summer nights
oh how we used to fall, into the sea
like fish from another world
breathing effortlessly
making our way through king tides,
struggling against currents
and seeking the moon for peace.
grey is the colour of the sea (that i see)
and i imagine
if personally i belonged
to the depths of the salty world, for real
and if i drifted to the bottom,
past the giant squid and undiscovered species,
then maybe i would find treasure immaterial
not from man, but from one who created time
a playground that i would claim to be mine.
i would stay there all week or year
sinking, floating, fearing that i would have to return one day
to the place from where i came
(that i would never be the same)
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i walk in the sand
(i walk on land)
and my shoes aggravate me.
they weigh me down like yesterday's cares
(and everybody stares at me)
so i decide.
i put them in the next bin i see
(or alternately in the sea)
an act of bold defiance,
a protest against restraint and all that shoes stand for
(unless of course the wearer is sitting)
and i have freedom evermore.