And now the soul sails, it floats
in a sea of sweet bliss, and then at last
it sinks and drowns in the sea
and does not sense or hear
any accidental sound,foreign or strange.

Miles of indigo ocean floss the urchins from its rocky teeth
cracked, aged, sturdy

like our captain
unwavered by the changing tides
wrinkles deep in his eyes
skin dry from the salt of the blue.

The ship a knotty brown, pointed like a tri-corn hat. Roguishly handsome like it could Woo the sea.

Our captain sang stories
of the ship's past lives before its soul
settled into our vessel.
His adventures hearing mermaids
Lured under to their beauty.
Most men be tranced by their call
lost forever in their seaweed chains,
not this Stone-hearted Charmer.
With swiftness of a thief
his smirk toss the sirens under his thumb.

Johnny Two Leg sticks his knife into the lid of a large barrel
prys it open.

Maggots wriggle under the dark of it's planks.
Rot cotton forming in their crevasses.

"Another day another barrel" Johnny sigh to himself
lid clanking against the deck.

This will be the crew's rations.

Sing songing men with their plenty red wenches toss back tankards on board.
Their song isn't flashy,
not even practiced,
they just want their tales to be heard.
A chorus, or chant repeats between stories.
Some simpler, some scary, some tall.
Each member of crew taking turns with their voice boxes, scratching the black liquor walls.

Johnny Two Leg plunks the barrel center of the crowd
a loud cheering erupts.
The poor boy who was staged on a chair belting limerick of his most recent love affair has his stool politely kicked, knocking him prone,
causing a nearby member
or four to laugh.

"If a man is a song, is he really dead?"
booms our captain through the bustle. touching Johnny Two Legs back,
giving a smile as he walk past.

We form a line as he hand us vials from the barrel

thumb the frosty glass
pop cork unleashing purple mist tendrils that spiral round like a serpent's tail

look to our captain in devotion
who holds his vial out proud.
Johnny Two Leg stands prouder,
glowing for the captain.
The poor boy stand bright eyed, clutching.
Together we swig back the poison

give our souls to the next vessel
be it castle, sword, or ship.
They'll sing about us
of hearts calloused harder than oceans teeth
voices louder than the reddest haired *****
passion hotter than the fires of hell.

When their lungs grow tired of our song, remind them
'fore we faired the sea under their new flag
we breathed oceans of wisdom
devout to this Knotty Tri-corn Rogue.
May his story never die.

My only friend,
I've been in this room for so long that the paintings on the walls have turned into motion pictures. Everything seems to be laughing at me and my lover has been sea sick since I left. The tides are rising and every minor thing makes the waves crash inside of me. I feel like it might be the season because this is about the time where we sink every year but find ourselves in fast paced rewind at the exact moment it started. When I close my eyes to the resting waters I can't take away the screams in my head. I don't know if the paintings even want to be around me anymore. I'm lost at sea and the ship is out of life rings.

Hope is dashed
And interest lost
I've waved for a ship
that doesn't recognize my raft
most any day.
I am worthy of a rudder, commanded,
intention steered to find me,
moving into port
as though my little light were a beacon.
But still the ship moves past
until a cannon shot
leaves need for rescue;
And then my raft
she sinks with the weight.
I can't sail forward thus.

I had a dream once,
That I was on a ship.
The ship it rocked,
And indeed it dipped,
And on this ship I took a trip.

I rode around the ocean blue,
And looked for joy,
And I found you.

I looked in wonder,
I gasped in awe,
I kissed you once
To prove what I saw.

And when I really truly knew,
I had a thought then,
Of what to do.

I'd sail us home
Again, you see,
And I'd take you
there again with me,

And once ashore,
We'd soon be married,
And I'd sail off again,
With you to ferry,

Until the day we'd
both need buried.

This world was built for one to be two
a pair that holds each other through
the winds of trouble and skies of delight,
to comfort as waves churn violently at night
And though the ship may stay afloat,
it's 'cause the two have been devote
to one another and their ship alike,
able to sail without a fright

The mistrial winds come
Blowing fiercely from every direction
As storms brewing
Reaching our ships
Filling the sails of division
Attempts to chart the course
In different directions
I tie my ship to yours
Lower my mast and drift
Along with you
For it is never
One plus one equals two
True love is two equals one
Throw up the rope
I shall tie it tight
Around me
Feel free and drift along with me
The winds are but a window
Taking place together
We shall always
Survive all storms
As the story unfolds
Looking into the mirror
We see our ships are but one
Breathing me in
I am the sails of you
As you are mine

Too much alone
Too much afraid
Too much unknown
Too much paid

To let us go
By the way
For no show
So they say

Could I tell you a story
Ole storyteller
Like bees buzzing flowers
With some honey on hive's mind

It's a modern tale
That has sat sail
All sewn up
At a rate of knots

That black book
Bought with blood money
Dares to say it holds a name
Spar - with these throat barnacles
(Alternately feeding and fighting With their feet)
bowsprit [bee block]
know your ropes, carried away deep six

It's a thieves cat o nine tales
Captain of chewing the fat
Or combing the cat
I've never seen (one) better

Dunnage topping a tonnage
From that trusty barrage
I'm everything on top and nothing handy
An eye splice on a short rope
Given and giving leeway

Haven't got a clew for true whence such hails from

...
So... She measures faces with her heart and hands
And a camera lens for a few