No Longer Dreaming

I've never feared the sea;
not even as it bubbled and
swirled around
my little island.


I've always seen far away lights-
signs of other islands or
reminders of ships that have past
or have yet to.


I watch the fish as they shimmer and 
dance in the cloudy water.
They seem fascinated with the delicate 
far off 
lights.


But I know better.


For I fear the lights more than the sea.

Moist

Searching for an ever-changing lust

in a sickly,

humid

darkness.

Hope is left on the brighter side of the door

and the desire

for meaning beyond

was abandoned long ago;

you're looking for a glimmer of heavenly breath;

for a cool breeze on the back of a sweaty spine,

for salvation-

in a den of dripping honey, but

there is no choice now

there is no trickling light to follow to the surface

and no greater meaning will be revealed

only regret,

disappointment,

and detachment

don't think of the glimmer that might be

don't think of gentile wind

and smiles over checkered picnic cloth

take both feet off the floor

crawl deep into the moldy, musty sheets

and let the devils dripping tongue

lap you into the maw.