Between an Aphrodisiac & a Loathing Place.

Albemarle Sound

Let the air stretch too far from throat,

Swear the light reflects an enduring ghost,

What's the use of forgetting a memory?

When its' stealing valuable energy,

never appears to lift a single finger –

Yet: still beating me,

Incessantly finds out hiding places: cleverly;

Just a smidge of a certain toned whisper....

ones' crumbling moronically underneath whimpers –

days' refuse to shine with glister,

muffled burns suddenly react as new blisters –

only come by when heart thaws from too long a bitter winter,

what can then be possibly realized: the shade growing above is that a shifter,

ones' giving in so easily within this times' tripper –

nothings' there to exploit free reminisce,

nobody harbors such power over downed defense,

own fear pouring bare soul to dehisce,

slipping for dire act to mine commit,

sleuthed eyes are not of my vandyke brown,

but: of the nasties lurking underneath skin after sundown,

so, perceptible for their vulgar playground –

Wonder if one conspires to jump off the edge; go below Albemarle sound,

Will I.... they; or everything apart of this mayhem finally: drown?