Words drag to the bottom of my skull like anchors,
Leaving a rusted trail of incoherent thought.
All the fishes are belly up,
Waves chase the moon as it rots
Eroding the mountain of stone-
The little pebble of neurons,
That calls my head its home.

This cold, dark water carves like claws,
Etch my brain. I am a *****.
Deep in the abyss of this ocean,
Light comes and goes, and it seems so foreboding.
The sand is stagnant, but the waves are whirling.

Inspiration breaks apart before it ever thinks of coming.

-SLuR