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aaron-wallisPoems
A subcutaneous doubt musters and you itch The shore line depression is here without hitch A sea of harps instigating an emotive atrophy You discharge and you dive with certain alacrity There is a boat afloat out in the briny of spite Oar-less and holey amid the bark and the fight You plunge and you quaff as you leave quiet behind A clamber and a climb and inside you will find Ruckus and roar as you rock with each crash Thunder and hail as the waves tempestuously lash Gladden with the grim elation preserves you Mirthful and drugged whilst the wet pours through To the most aphotic of waters that drags you deep The boat now just wood unto rocks in a heap Too eager to leap and now too weak to swim A stoical sink under madness to dim The seashore despair was a lie to itself The still and the shielded brimming with wealth Never attempt to weather a storm Of a storm as endless as that of that storm A wish that you stayed a want that you listened You’d still be where her green eyes glistened Where love and the good is now once tendered Most is best left as how it’s remembered.
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Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
The Shore Line Depression
A subcutaneous doubt musters and you itch The shore line depression is here without hitch A sea of harps instigating an emotive atrophy You discharge and you dive with certain alacrity There is a boat afloat out in the briny of spite Oar-less and holey amid the bark and the fight You plunge and you quaff as you leave quiet behind A clamber and a climb and inside you will find Ruckus and roar as you rock with each crash Thunder and hail as the waves tempestuously lash Gladden with the grim elation preserves you Mirthful and drugged whilst the wet pours through To the most aphotic of waters that drags you deep The boat now just wood unto rocks in a heap Too eager to leap and now too weak to swim A stoical sink under madness to dim The seashore despair was a lie to itself The still and the shielded brimming with wealth Never attempt to weather a storm Of a storm as endless as that of that storm A wish that you stayed a want that you listened You’d still be where her green eyes glistened Where love and the good is now once tendered Most is best left as how it’s remembered.
aaron-wallis
Written by
aaron-wallis
English
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
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