Drowning in the deep
Adrift and amidst the sea of oily black ichor—a desolate paradise, one so close;
Aching of choice, aching to steer, yet so stagnant against those umbral tidal waves,
Crushed beneath the weeping ink, pressed down til' undertow, drowning til' marrow broke,
No talltale sound—a stolen infinity, swept from tomorrow,
A threshold of maddening thoughts, blistering like violent lights,
and leave me undone.
The sea—it will call, it will beckon, it will smile,
rot away the soul like carrion,
into a blackening heart,
everlong.
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