A guitar tuning called laxative
to match and flame your eternal guilt
of being caught amongst the gulls
Vying to pose as voyuer’s on wrist
Of fraying hair.
where the Brave feared to climb
they decorate communication totem.
Sunscreen splits of mono hawk
the vaults a hour to static film this world
As we are all stuck on the same salt soaked
Folding tree making its haven with broken
Seavowel and seasonal thesis towel.
Waters edge Broadcast of initial doubt.