the night stars stick to us, we feel the weight of other worlds

she sleeps in the shallow shore waters. the rip current is her lullaby. i’m searching but its a full moon and the tide is hungry.

pity is a thirsty mistress

the ocean was what made me think of you. it always seems to.

enough brave moments of unreality can turn awe into a joyful normalcy.

with a clapping of the hands, i wake the gods.

the past is a sticky phantom, always following close at my heels.