Beneath the waves of dreams, without a sound
there may be life, or just the chance thereof.
The seas of sleep are deep where lost is found
below the glow of starry skies above.
Your thoughts begging to float or else to sink;
the current of the night comes rushing in,
the taste of salt in every word you think,
the taste of guilt without the taste of sin.
The moon has turned to blood and still it pulls
the tides which mark the memories, unmade,
while morning skies begin to fill with gulls
whose screams obscure and dreams begin to fade.
Then suddenly you’re tossed upon the sand
to find the world is not what you had planned.