hold me in your arms,
promoting creativity.

I’ve always been a sucker for mystification

take my clothes off,
and de-robe yourself.

There is no need for us to remain hidden

please tell me of times spent,
playing in the sand:
building for the sake of the tides demolishment.

growth irregular,
remain stained
and fade, if so, by choice.

toss my subjectivity with the sand,
allowing your moistened finger
to determine the direction of the wind.

cast a memento towards the sea
in hopes of nothingness:
a return of null.

and may we commence,
upon a checkered blanket…

…years into the future,

to enjoy the reminiscence
of our labor.



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