Sea

For the hustling was constant
the silence was grave
the city a dead pool of static corpses
with no purpose but to awe

Beautiful, to say the least
but small
but dull
but heavy

An unused doll house

For the hustling was constant
silence slowly made its way
filtered itself in,
grew intertwined to a new found core

Until she appreared
and nothing ever struck so loudly
Deafening as a hoofing parade,
a clacking train, like thunder
yet wordless

All that surrounded it payed reverence
All bent and embraced it
Not daring nor wanting
to be part of anything else

Paths led to it
a road paved in slimey tentacles
arousing, inviting, dragging us
into her whole

Foolish it is though,
naive the intention,
for we would never fit
we could never melt

But we can pretend,
and for the hustling was constant
silence overcame
devouring, as darkness fell