WHEN THE SUN SETS

Dreams wash up on a shoreline. Flotsam and jetsam thoughts that only ever awaken hopes lost at sea. I am shipwrecked and so constantly alone on island in an ocean of fear. The island is sinking. The salted water has begun to lap against my feet. Dread, but I cannot step back, return to higher ground. Eyes search for signs amongst the broken vessels upon my arms. Sea birds cry accusingly, ”hu-man, you brought this upon thy self, ha, ha, ha, ha.” My longing has brought into my possession treasure chests filled with out of date mobiles, empty jerricans and record companies’ CD albums and free to air TV networks. My fresh water is found within the island’s heart bypass. I knew deep beneath my downloads and virtual realities that something had to give. So, here I stand at the island’s edge watching my world set. Tanned in cancer, overweight with regrets and filled with memories of things called snow and glaciers: It all melted away and turned seas into oceans and oceans into vast deserts that washed away the sands of Arabian Nights. I am the only one left. I am a Sinbad with no one to tell my tales