When I look at you

I see that my heart

is **home.....

In this chair is where I'll be,
It is where I will be when I write the grandest novel.
In this chair is where I'll be,
It is where I will string together the most magnificent predicate,
I will sow my words to make the most wonderful sentences.
In this chair is where I'll be when I watch it all come together,
A Voyer to the construction of a spider web of fiction,
Spun so gracefully.
It is a lot to behold in such a chair,
a chair in which chafes the fringe of my buttocks.
A chair that wails.
It is very old, and its cracks are showing,
for after all it is little more than a dying tree,
mutilated for our comfort, though,
it has become my own discomfort,
In this chair is where I will be,
When I purchase a new Chair,
and the that is where I will be......

Cliffs of dying coral affronted me as I slipped to the depth,
my heart wept for the inspiring sight it once was.
What it has become is a paragon to man's destruction.
I look for something beautiful.
A painter sat cross-legged on the white sandy bed,
his canvas weighted down, the weights accompanied by two mischievous ***** as he cast his oil paint to the page using his hands.
A masterpiece, to paint the ocean's belly from the inside.
'That's true beauty,' I mouth, watching the silver bubbles escape from me with my dwindling oxygen.