struck with this arm

a symbolic, mystic metaphor
trees come crashing down my morning stroll
while sand creeps up to knees and more

	I'm lonely
	I'm lonely
	I'm lonely again

               this feeling assumes that there's something to mend

but I know it's nothing but seasons and sunshine
chemicals and land mines
a province of life born before the mind
inescapable, intangible, and infected from the preamble

	there is nothing in life but life to give
	as he once did and she once did
	there is no more to this than [cell] division ad infinitum
	any meaning is naught but a ghostwritten wish

	without wanting someone
	to grow as a gift
	biological uselessness
	begs dissolve its own skit

and so and at once the protagonist lashes
against such existence
forceful, remorseful, and soon to be bashful

once a mistake, once in relief
not inclined toward forgiveness

slip on the rocks
feel the salt where the reef tears
and
let us sink into grief