heat death

we are a high school, honey-love crush,
terribly beautiful at our 
tipping point to the contact. 
staring into abyssal zones.
walking on water;
wading;
raising generations 
of fish through this 
finality. the poem steering 
directionlessness into its 
narrative. the death of 
oceans as a wicked strangling
no one wants to solve.
it is all simply too evil
and we are too pure to know
what terrible beauty comes down to us.
a life and death hypocrisy,
when we are flying 
in that first 
weightless step.
walking on water
until

bottom.
staring into abyssal zones

which are closer now.


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