lyrics
In outliers lay lying beauty.
Salt was thick on my tongue as we braved the gusts.
I thanked the maelstrom for laughing along with us.
My senescence sense of direction was giving way to wanderlustful navigation.
To feel nothing but waves crashing mutiny against a creaky frame,
And the breeze’s playful sputter-spray.
On a day just like today, we caught ourselves making eye contact with the sun.
They hoist me from the doldrums, threw overboard the deadweight,
Ask me what I’m made of, as I continue to propagate.
I am forty five miles of nerves,
Compressed into voids and curves.
Uneven distribution: the tragedy of a system so nervous.
They said, “bemoan your meniscus indifferent; no one will measure subtle sea foam displacement.”
Reckless in the abandonment, becoming out of body, hoping to drown.
Dry, active, wet, passive, (silent).
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