Moods

Seaweed, moss, flowing in the undercurrent.

Water seeps under

My door.

 

 

Careful,

I have bled for this thought.

Triangular thought in taupe.

 

Taupe does not belong me,

An alien that invaded my ear.

 

Oh the extraterrestrial voices I hear.

 

 

The current pulls me out the door into the creek,

Leaving my husk behind.

 

The taupe triangular alien adrift

In my rust scented blood cells.