by grimbeau

Perhaps the radio can see
who the ocean has reclaimed
this gusty Sunday
Less a numbers game
than prurient derision
Smug as a bug on a drug
Neon hordes festoon seasides
Find macabre pokemon
Washed up after sated fish
Gold, silver and bronzed
Load up on food for thought
Leftovers after feeding frenzies
Fake it as it comes
Feel no love for humankind
Only mild revulsion
Jockeying for possession