Waves

When the sky sets

into its deep red color from the bursting

of the setting sun

the end of the day

begins

The night arises, it does not fall




Ocean breeze,

closing calls of seagulls,

waves’ soft crawls

cooling sand




Masturbatory words

ejaculating from the aquifer

of rusty dreams -

the Deep Stuff or the escapist stuff?

That depends on the hooting owl,

the one who window-peeps

early in the night

to see the young

suburban kid

toying with his member

for the first time.




Life goes on,

sperm is released,

another sun sets

another night arises.




The cycle continues

with a little hope

the next day will be different