Thursday, August 5

my oceanic resting place

nothing really inspires me anymore
i'm just drifting with the waves
no paddle, sail, or compass to guide me
clouds roll over my head
casting shadows on the things i thought i knew
deep blue hopelessness surrounds me
as i rock and sway with the tide
on my little raft of false dreams
dying of thirst i lower my lips to the cold water
i taste the bitter anguish on my tongue
and immediately choke on grains of the salty scourge of my reality
i cough up blood
the winds change
and i am suddenly swept under a powerful current
my raft is toppled and destroyed by a downpour of rain
synchronized with the tears that now begin to escape from my eyes
i try to fight the tidal motion, in vain
i am being pulled under
violently pushed in ever direction
the last bubbles of life depart from my lungs
i have drowned in the very thing i tried to save
the pool of my creativity has turned against me
and i accept this fate
as my body sinks slowly into the watery abyss

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