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.