The sound of animosity
wakes you up...

A brisling terror
tormenting the kelp...

Adept in riling.
You cannot chew the thoughts...

The rain washed,
moon. I am going to talk...

To confront his terror
he changed the game...

Midcloud of the –
rainy day...

It heaves you up;
too antsy to stay...

A long pause
after my signature peel...

Becoming blind
in lightless depth...

You punish yourself
for not becoming a naught...

Your stretched nerves
move, like a reptile...

Like walking on coal dump
coming of age...