Morbid stuff comes out when I get bored

Crabs slither, dragging their claws
In the moonlight, or is it you
Come back to claim me?

A gentle breeze brushes the palms
In the moonlight, or is it you
Come back to touch me?

The tide pulls at my bare ankles
In the moonlight, or is it you
Come back to drown me?

Slipping

(This is an old poem of mine, but my personal favorite.)

I’m letting you slip through my fingers again tonight
I stare into cerulean eyes only to find myself
Thinking of something else entirely, like palm trees
Or the taste of pineapple dissolving in my mouth
Then you blink, blue to cream to blue
Jolting me awake, my tongue dries in my mouth
Have you been speaking all this time?

I ponder the courses of my wandering heart
And in pondering, my mind once again leaves you
To linger on the shores of psychology
Embracing philosophy
Dancing in the sand with St. Augustine
We’re tracing footprints in the shallows only to see them
Washed away by the tide and swell of you
My feet are cramping, I curl them under myself
Have you been speaking all this time?

Navy knit sweater over the crest of shoulders
It moves with your breathing, a hypnotic pulse
Your breath catches mine and I fall
Plunging head first into Davy Jones’ locker
The quicksilver current carries me away
I am entranced by dolphin laughter
Ensnared in tangles of seaweed
I see a flash of sapphire in my periphery
And sink down, seeking the quiet
Lonely depths of the mid-Atlantic trench
Then, hooked and netted, thrown onto the beach
My lungs paralyzed, gaping wide like a flounder
The door slams, I’m alone on the couch
Have you been speaking all this time?

A smorgasboard of random stuff. Yay!

1 (poetry)
sharing is nudity
dangerously tempting
running at the mouth
to share too much
a flinch but i'm blind

2 (selfishness)
that face is not a reflection
those eyes are not your eyes
so when you salivate
remember that they don't
or might
or definately agree

3 (Why am I obsessed with beach imagery? WHY?!)
I write about things I don't like
And places I don't care to see
I dream about the ocean
But yawn upon the beach

(The Blessed Virgin Mary) 4
tiny hands and smooth
holds the Child without calluses
no sin to blacken the blood
in purity she rises
for Her it isn't to rot
but gracious blessings evermore