Never waves stand upright. The coastline hears goose-bumps and foothills are slaves to a surface. Biplanes dripping shower curtain tears across the obese horizon’s negligee and lace. These waves decorate by permutation and drink a tipsy sickness of combination, a bucket and pail. The toothsaw cutting discourse, snipping chain link fences inside the mouth, always trying to break the jail. Gaining a light-switch of sky to lose another ceiling in another shadow’s glaze. Scale stems, under grown by now much ignoring grace. Pertaining a feeling forgotten– potent and bitter to blunder a bone. These fences embrace imagination’s wardrobe with laws, written in cursive on a sentimental check, rented from memory like a noun; mountain an earlobe flapping until forgetting. Limits a living, reduces to wreck. Never gaining grips upon the fragile fruit of time. The sea will have no posture until it is entangled in a portrait. Bellcurling landscape balanced on a rhyme where the tongue is hung and damaged and dangled.