Beached

This day is cool and grey,
soft to the touch;
a vacant eye fruitlessly seeks
its final destination.

There are traces of
the last pathetic throes for the unattainable;
grasps and gasps for freedom
and succulent life.

Inside, maggots fester
and raw, red reality
stews, prepared
to collapse in the hot sand.

If kicked by some disrespectful child,
this thin rubbery skin threatens to split,
erupt the putrid stench, all-breath consuming,
as the facade falls,

And you will be left
with the innards of this rotting sea
on your oceanfront property.