There used to be days
where the sea met my toes
and my hair would tangle
and salt would stick to my skin.
I would lie down along the midnight shores
and listen to the echoes of madness.
The darkness
would swallow me up,
its soft, feathery insides.
I remember tears,
my throat closing in,
silent, static.
Cold air would seep into my bones.
Wet, distant, lonely.
A permanent malignity sifting
through the chaos of my mind.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 12:38 AM UTC
There used to be days
where the sea met my toes
and my hair would tangle
and salt would stick to my skin.
I would lie down along the midnight shores
and listen to the echoes of madness.
The darkness
would swallow me up,
its soft, feathery insides.
I remember tears,
my throat closing in,
silent, static.
Cold air would seep into my bones.
Wet, distant, lonely.
A permanent malignity sifting
through the chaos of my mind.
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