Married to the Sea

I am fully prepared to give myself entirely to the sea.


Whisk me away oh you brutal mass of emptiness, that which
ruled the center of the blue of my eye since birth, since
genetics dictated that I not ever see color, because my
family too often saw the differences of others, and over-looked
the insanity within themselves. Wet already is my shoulder
with the tears of "the other" who somehow always see through
my articulation of their darkest secrets, their deepest shame.
Wet already is my back from my own transmigration, from a town
to a city, from the deepest woods, to the western most beaches,
from living in a tree to being married to the sea. Dry are my thoughts
as I bask in the heat lying on the hood of my car.
Lying there still doesn't make the change in my pocket jingle with delight
but only reflects the blinding light of truth back to my eye
until it burns a hole in the center of my brain.
I am always reminded of my father's insanity, of your father's insanity,
of his father's insanity, of everyone's father's insanity,
and how i might have broken the cycle had I not shoved these thoughts
so far down into the recesses of my organs, until I am shitting out
nothings of girlish fancy that make me so pleasing to the opposite
sex. Oh how I ache for sweet release of being untouched.
Wet already are my eyes, yes the cliche of tears,
yes the cliche of tears,yes the cliche of tears,yes the cliche of tears
yes the cliche of tears,yes the cliche of tears,yes the cliche of tears.
Had enough? Stomach it. Swallow them down.