My Ocean Sways and Rushes

By Alex Gibbs

Sometimes when I go to the beach, 

 I stand in the freezing cold ocean with 

the currents surging against my legs and arms,

reminding me how my mind 

resembles an ocean.


In the water

I can feel it all,

all the black oil drips of insecurity

floating through the water, and

raging and staining against my speckled skin, 

the gentle waves of creativity that inspire me

to swim against the used cigarettes of boredom and hopelessness,

and the soft sands of joy that I jump to

after feeling the sharpness of a plastic bag,

that very well could have been a jellyfish.


Sometimes I can lift the jagged stones 

and scoop out the bottle caps from the sand,

but I cannot remove the oil stains from my skin

or get rid of all those damn cigarettes, 

oh, the many times I’ve tried.


Polluting a serene and beautiful ocean, 

but why in the hell would I do that for?

The reason always escapes me.

Or maybe, just maybe garbage is natural 

and I am spending all my time like some idiot,

thinking that all this garbage is somehow my fault

and I should be ashamed of all the damage I’ve done to my ocean.

In all honesty, I think I may never understand my ocean

and all the waves, grains of sand, and trash

buried inside of it and how it all works.

Perhaps that is for the best and

the water isn’t meant to be understood

and I should focus on the

gentle waves enveloping my body,

while the dark sky morphs into a gorgeous sunrise.

For the truth is that

by always focusing on the pollution

I am wasting my time with my ocean, and

some days will be filled with ashy cigarettes and filthy oil

while others will allow me to float upon the waves.