You were still a boy a few waves ago. Through the downpour of meteors and pull of anchors, you filled your lungs with new breath and your chest grew like sails, without ever losing that smirk on that sunny face of yours.

Aye, aye, the past may be as sweet as the sunset on salty waters. I see how the sand has scrubbed your soul and body and left them brilliant and fragile. The ocean took you in when your eyes were dry, when your blood was thick with lightning.

Once wrapped in cables, now you pull them, bringing shores to you. The thunder of your feet calling sirens to your side. The sky has slipped on your crown and has fallen for you, taking me down under with the broken bottles and lost words.

Labels: alarming truthness, artform, seasick, Yet Still Docked