Twisting through contorted limb
Sober now from distant whim
Batten down the hatches
The storm approaches, the thunder crashes
It cannot wait
It must be now
shot’s been fired across the bow
What presence here has been proclaimed?
What once was unspoken is finally named
So this is sinking, or so it seems
Diving fathoms in lucid dreams
With lungs now aching, begging for air
And only cold water answers
With a cinder block anchor, hope turns to despair
Ripped from the womb and left to the ocean’s care
Cold water
So just sink, let go, slip into the depths
Let the pieces of a wasted life slip past the fingertips
Rejoice, exult, a [bad word] conclusion to a melancholy myth
grave at sea, an absentee, whose presence won’t be missed
Picking at the bones that came to rest on the ocean bed
Whose subtle pose tells a tale of those that sink like lead
Summon the ire left hanging in moments that swings by the neck to and fro.
Assured by the light that there’s one way to go
Death is callous, strange, and sudden
pious, indignant glutton
Whose hands are soft, warm, and inviting