I used to 
think that the 
lapping waves were 
inviting me to 
set sail taking 
me beyond somewhere 
but now I’m 
beginning to wonder 
if they aren’t 
the sounds of
soothing peace assuring 
me that all 
is good here 

What’s that called 
when you’ve lost 
the taste for 
something that you 
once so enjoyed 
not a cold 
something like that 
but it goes 
deeper past nose
and onto tongue 
it’s almost like 
the heart itself 
has said enough 
and what once 
was a delicacy 
has become mundane 

Sometimes I think 
I’ve run out
of and on
long before due 
almost like the 
tocks of clocks
forgot to check 
the ticks making 
time go faster 
but no it’s 
just destiny using
fate as decoration

No mistakes ever 
happen now or 
later but only 
before because errors 
are never seen 
but only remembered 

I’m a cow
standing and chewing 
nary a care
in the world 
until that is
clouds begin growing 
on the horizon 
each one darker
and wider until 
they stretch beyond 
side to side 
and then me
and my friends 
make a run 
for it but 
not away together 
but towards because 
we know that 
storms need time 
to grow stronger 
and meeting them 
when they’re weaker 
means less rain