What is a boat good for
where there's no water?
A coma tied to dockside
missing it's blue waves.

What is poet's purpose
when he's a lousy knotter?
A lack of words on paper,
his mind is short of tales.

He's fishing for ideas
on a ship that won't sail,
oblivious to his surroundings,
he's only bound to fail.

You don't know what it's like
to be born under late june's sun,
even though it's dark outside
and the moon is shining so bright
it could claim the lion's throne.
You don't know what it's like
to be a Cancer's child,
to hear the lions roar.

I can feel your eyes
slowly shedding layers off my skin.

I can see your twitching hands,
all about to find the beast within.

Leaning into you,
my breath slowly reaching your ears,

whispering obscenities
you could have only ever heard in your wildest dreams.