(Two more minutes)

Gently float along, mariner sways
with his ship. Passing days,
gliding waves, horizon always
there.
She scoots along, a steady
locomotion, pump of the rudder, ready
propeller, heat seeking sweaty…

WHO ARE YOU? WHERE AM I?
WHY CAN’T I BREATHE?

Groping for air like a fish flop, sit atop and fall,
falling for fiery darkness
instills a fairy tale fear.
Cold! Shivering concoction of
frigidity! A bowl!
A bowl! Stars dancing around
my corpse, I’m dying, I’m
dying? I’M DYING! Do I fight?
I’m tired… NO! You’re not
today, not in front of them…

*GASP*

What the fuck just happened?

Gently float along, mariner’s haze
illuminates experience, covered in a daze,
looks to the waves, thinks: “always,”
there.
Blinding sunset, heeds
creed, lost, innocent, guilt heel,
for those who prior spilled the schpeel.

“I didn’t know until I knew the feeling of forever,” said the mariner.

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Soft Tower

Soft Tower

22 Followers

Guiding my Mind to the perfect spot within and without myself