i know moon’s swell.. and it feels good on my skin
woman of the waves, take me back to surprise
fractions of fictions function as
tangled webs of slow motion look backs
and feeble attempts to gloss over containment
driving in the rain in search of a lost treasure
haphazardly stumbling upon a sense of nostalgia
riding the midnight glow eastbound toward a brighter day where shadows hide scars

far from polite
this redition of metamorphosis from twinkles in the sky – to nothing but the light that paves my way home.