Her and I,
Different in our approach
To this unconscious sea-life.
Pick pick pick.
Never mind that they have feelings
I want her to stop picking
At the thin pink sea-cucumbers.
But she wont.
Submersion occurs,
And we travel the sea bed..
Looking at the white castle In the cave there.
Eye to eye with bull rays,
And the other marine life.
The house is empty
We cannot see,
But for the flash of a camera
Lighting up every third step.
But for some dark windows,
Out of which slowly creep nightmares.
Which my own face do affect
Into numbness and fear
For am I not possessed?
My head wrapped the whole way round
Blue of sea no longer
Choking cold and lonely,
My eyes roll,
This isn’t real.
I choose possession or schizophrenia
In some grasp for explanation.
I am released upon the sight of
Pink ink, seeping from the panes
Of the surrounding windows.
Us-whoever we are, make our way home
I am treated as if intoxicated. Not allowed to walk myself.
In the leaving of that dream-place
I pass a cherry tree in a lamp
Which no-one cares to note
As an interesting
Underwater phenomenon.
05.02.08
Eloise 
“which no-one cares to note?”
I like this, but also think I’d like to see how the two work together in succession. These are my initial thoughts. Like the surrealism and the symbolism o of the underwater world.
i remember you telling me that i was the nature disturber in this.
I would like you to note that i never laid a finger on the sea cucumber.
I am no beast.
Is this a metaphor? I feel like i should go pat something tranquilly now.. or rather.. not