Just Beneath

I'm a night owl by nature, so my mind often won't shut down after my head hits the pillow. Most of the time, I just get flashes of stuff I need to do, like taking out the garbage or pulling weeds; however, a couple nights ago, the words "just beneath" and the first line of a poem picked at my brain until my lazy butt turned on the light and picked up a pen. The result was the following poem.


Just beneath is where it boils
A seething sea
Formed of high compression times

Just beneath is where we fail
To languidly let
The water roll off our backs

Just beneath is where it feeds
The dastardly demon
Who triumphs in our misery