The roar pummels through like thought, pinching feet

and pointing eyebrow, marinating the hair with the savoury sky,

tipping over at an angle.

Pleating memories of blue with crushed carbon, the smile is fierce,

yellow and fixed, and shellbacks, tasting lopsided,

never greet the insomniac, carefree.

He straddles patience, beatific, and muses tides with ripe pathos –

they are his seasons, dripping through his animation,

raking his antiquity and tickling his cruise,

malleable as a coastline. He loves islands, unrequited,

and empties his heart like a pocket watch; a treadmill

gazing wistfully with eyes of salt.