schizoid king.

saw the moon on the water
and all that surrounded me was reflection.
am i here just for existential reasons?
are my dreams just another addition to 'unfulfilled'?
my body and mind are not compatible -
they always reach for different finish lines.
but i grab onto something nonexistant,
like clinging onto precious ghosts.
you feel them, but they are not there.

and clarity seeps in with the sun
but the sun leaves at the end of the day
and euphoria fades into confusion.

and in the end,
maybe we could stop living like ghosts
and be human.
maybe you will see that your
beauty is art.

conceptual nautical.

breathing solitude,
i descend the rocks and kiss the ocean bed.
wax poetic upon the tempest, retreating to
set down upon thee place of rest.
i would forsake today's sleep
but days swim by in delicately placed intervals.
there is no time of sleep,
no time for bridal engagements.
but time is a shell,
a crack conjures absent sunlight,
absent dusk.
age is a lullaby,
washed thereon the lighthouse.
a visitor sees the light
but is blinded.

sea nymphs dive through,
a child's game to the higher plane, the
higher current.
thy breath is stale and apathetic towards
the breeze that carries me.
i kiss the cheeks of rain and dilate.
blessed only by those who flow my way.
i kiss the cheeks of rain
and dilate.

the ocean,
the waves, so textured and melodic
in their passing.