Dead Dogs and Shipwrecks...from'Quarkboy'

I see no compromise in his heart
No lullaby for the unloved
No crutch for the weak
Just lament and mourning for misplaced seclusion
And a truth hiding in dreams of an undecided future
He will not let the sand at his toes
Nor the biting sea at his ankles
Nor salt away the constant boom of this shoreline
To his shuttered ears

Instead, let the brackish spray
Play on his lips,
Toil with philosophies on
Rudimentary structures in sediment
And play at forgetfulness.