(Graveyard of Shells)

Snails in tunnels
lurching toward the
smell of simplicity.
Rain rushes towards the house and
suddenly nothing remains but the
Graveyard of Shells.
Culture clash with a lazy dash to
dream about dandelions and
open fields of fate.
Searching for strength and
my signal is low.
Candy crazed sugar rush
ridicules responsible rationailty.
Dreaming of deserts
disconnects the delusion.
There!  is space.
There! Is time.
There the tide has slunk
down and away to leave the
salt to sterilize and
send you into flavor-pitch.