A Tour Through To The Ocean Floor

A tour through to the ocean floor
the tastes of salt and seaweed

some rays getting through
others still on the way down

little specks of sea dust
moving about like one massive pendulum

I can feel the cold
coming up my feet.

Remembrance

that Day is steadily approaching
creeping by the sides

remembrance is watchful eyes
and carefully constructed lies

Every Now and Then

every now and then
the strange thought arises
how did these teeth get this way?
when did this start exactly?
where are they going?

Well, we all know the answer to the last question
but I, like every other average person, like to imagine
that I'm the exception

Better Late Than Never

Frozen behind closed doors
Keep pushing down the handle
Something has to give at some point
Repeat, repeat, repeat
"Better late than never."