Beach

 

Beach

The seas, salty hands embrace eroded rocks as

Sea birds phase in and out, between hidden dimensions of sunlight.

Hills fall away, land snatched by ocean

One blue plastic bucket stands alone discarded, a sentinel, defiant, against the tide.

If I don’t

 

 

If I don’t shout, I am not heard.

No spoken word, have to claw be understood.

 My fingers bleed, I cannot breathe.

If I don’t shout, I am not heard.

                       

If I don’t shout, I cannot taste.

My chocolate face, soft and gooey

grin is runny, lip gloss fruity.

If I don’t shout, I cannot taste.

 

If I don’t shout, I cannot smell.

Sulphur hell, brown rotted earth.

Sweet and sickly, eaten quickly.

If I don’t shout, I cannot smell.

                       

If I don’t shout, I am not seen.

Disappear, into a dream, become a haze.

 Inside a maze, my mind is closed.

If I don’t shout, I am not seen.

                       

If I don’t shout, I cannot feel.

Hard like steel, bones fuse hard.

Heart goes still, iron overkill.

If I don’t shout I cannot feel.

 

If I don’t shout, I am not here.

Pulled apart, take out my heart,

empty grave, no soul remains.

If I don’t shout I am not here.