Familiarity breeds contempt





A tide ceaselessly surging


Never ebbing

Lifting the

Flotsam and jetsam

Spilling them carelessly inland

And inside

Forming barricades from the detritus of existence

And submerging the pillars of respectability

‘Neath the mud and slimy sea creatures

Of the surge

We wash up on these drowned shores

Naked and filthy

Exposed like the bones of a beached whale


I’m ready for my close-up now Mr. DeMille.






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