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CARRIER
OF THE STRAND
Crying in season and out, ignored and depressed,
I sit alone, next to an empty swimming pool,
watching unpleasant breasts of half grown girls
strut blind folded up West No Name Street.Cruising in the library of no hopes and fears,
I hear her humming an everyday attitude.
Her invisible distinctions, devoid of reflected passion,
wake all malignant nerves.Captured by lust within the form of love,
I run away to belly up on the landscape of beach.
Feelings for the best of the worst
hide in my entire body.Confused by what is happening,
I watch the waves start to smile at me.
In the silence of the tranquil spheres,
I remain the keeper of the strand.
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