The Ocean Called–We’re Running Out of Sense

by jerrontables

I come, I crash, I petty cash;

I jerk and flick the whip-a-lash;

I joke and clean my ever-spleen

And guzzle Robitussin.

I numb, I rash, I motorbrash;

I horn and verb in anger flash;

I dream forever seventeen

And sink into the ocean.


spilling-me-salty: assume-our-doom-is-flower-bloom-until-the-boat-is-faulty

I am the answer dancer!

I’m answer everyday!

I human, man–

The best of can!!–

I’m wishy-wash away!