I think I'll take a walk to find the beach.
-the ocean locked my breath and since I'd thought the wave that cleansed me
I've been drowning.
The air is always fresh in hales
through my throat but never reaches
deep enough.
Hysteric, how I try to breathe
when sand is in my lungs.
And with no tide- just gentle winds
to trace the edges of my wound
To let me know that I'm not whole.
In Hell's persistence, hot or cold,
the pressures dance beneath my chest.
They run in fear of facing what may change them,
Angry that they're chased,
and that they run.
till underwater takes them high enough
beneath the light, beneath the waves.
In wave-less depths they crack and space
will crush them into holes in teeth of rotting suns.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
I think I'll take a walk to find the beach.
-the ocean locked my breath and since I'd thought the wave that cleansed me
I've been drowning.
The air is always fresh in hales
through my throat but never reaches
deep enough.
Hysteric, how I try to breathe
when sand is in my lungs.
And with no tide- just gentle winds
to trace the edges of my wound
To let me know that I'm not whole.
In Hell's persistence, hot or cold,
the pressures dance beneath my chest.
They run in fear of facing what may change them,
Angry that they're chased,
and that they run.
till underwater takes them high enough
beneath the light, beneath the waves.
In wave-less depths they crack and space
will crush them into holes in teeth of rotting suns.
