Who used to stay up late talking?
You were drunk and had no one else to listen

Love the invisible fishing line that hooked me directly through my gills even still to this day

You caught me without using a single piece of bait

I've been treading water, trying not to drown
But I'm afraid, I'm finally going down
The waves are coming faster
And of self control I am no master
Should I hold my breath as I plunge
Or breath in the water and quickly this life expunge
I keep my eyes open as I am sinking
But I can't keep from blinking
When a colorful fish swims by
Then turned around and looked me in the eye
What he had to say gave me chills
"Why don't you just grow gills
We all must change and adapt
Or none of us would live through life's crap"
Wise words from a fish's lips
And if I survive, I'll never again eat fish and chips

I can't rip myself asunder from such a magnanimous prepositional
as this.
While the fishes hang from my window
like little ice-ickles in spring.
So foams the frosty beverage that tells the gills to sing.
Twilight music and the sonnets contained therein
have little left to offer us, save a right-winged jerry-bin.
So the muse of ages goes round and around and around
for the malarkey of a daffodil creates folds and hills
where none exist.