I need to run to the ocean. I want to discard everything, even the things I love. Last night, I dreamt of scorched earth. My brain fails me. I want the abandonment of the self entirely—the clarity from an erasure that is total.

I want the non-existence of the ocean at midnight.

A ride through the eddies of night
and its moonlit rivers
all eve my disappearing youth
shrieks in slivers

time and space without boundary
the gates of the indifferent universe,
—as I scream!—
sleeping soundly