I feel a corrosive sensation trying to compromise with my body
A washed up shore that assures you've explored every decibel that's been thrown away, that's ever occured... who built this rock?
an Island can become lonely sometimes when the seagulls become less gullible, when the water becomes obedient because Poseidon got his way, hail to some sea lord who cast out the strays, who lived livid, somewhat different because they couldn't see his ways...
I feel abstract in this castle the world has produced, it's as obtuse as a noose, waiting for a decision, hanging around for the truth...I can't quiet wrap my head around it.
How many people do you think died so you couldn't live? Countless wars fought by obedient whores who strap up with guns killing people by their doors, how many reconcile with peace to the point of entrapment?
YOU ARE READING
The lighthouse
PoetryA man left alone on an island next to a lighthouse is surrounded by nothing but the crashing waves of his thoughts, depression and inner conflict.
