In a room darkened by my mood, I am lounged sleeplessly in a faded dirty recliner. The vines crawling their way down the faded blue arm and underneath me and again over my head strangle me. My thoughts choke before they even fully bloom. Silence hums at my ear drums playing a simple beat to my memories of yesterday, and the day before… I cant seem to place that moment in any context, her hair so red remains blue. If I could only breath I think I could focus this viewfinder just a bit and recall her smell. Nothing. I want so badly to believe her love was real, but I cant remember what it was to feel. The touch remains lost somewhere… somewhere.
This time every night I set out on a singular mission, a man at sea. Inside I see a dark figure swathed in navy blue, a seaman’s beard scratching the wind. Facing strait-on, I look through my spyglass at the black sails of a blue-haired woman. Her ship rides the back of an angry kraken, colossal foaming waves and bottomless whirlpools litter her wake like trash thrown out for their uselessness. The smell is of death. A cry calls out from across the battle soaked deck, “Brace for impact!”
My mind wakes but my eyes don’t. They’ve lost their usefulness, like a heart that cant love. Pealing my lids back like you peel an orange, stinging and wet, my vision returns. But that seascape fails to escape. Salt still clings at the hairs in my beard. I cant sleep, I cant wake. I am marooned somewhere in-between the two worlds being strangled by vines overgrown and hungry.
The sound of thunder jars me from my little island. Rain running down my neck soaks all the way through. Shouts ring, port and starboard, as my feet loose the deck. The sand, spread to help sure the step through bloody battle, is now in my mouth as I pick my bones back up against the railing
-Grip cant be found through the slick and darkness-
Steadying myself as well as the lantern, I again scan the seas to the north by north west. Fire like ice, blue and blazing sneers back at me. Lips that seem so soft… you would just want to fall asleep in them while listening to tall drunken tales told by friends of deep seas… turned into a thin snarl.
-I cant seem to breath-
I don’t want to look upon that face of pure evil, I cant look away. So beautiful, so deadly. Again the thunder, the jarring, the lurch and creak and splintering. I am thrown against the railing so hard it breaks her gaze. But the ice is still there, there inside. The pain… stinging, stabbing air filling my lungs. Though not fully. Never fully.
Like the waves washing away across the deck, a dutiful scally scrubbing scrubbing away everything, my life seems to wash away into the sea. Parts being crushed under giant tsunami jaws whist others are dragged down into the bowels of hungry, dark and frothy, salivating whirlpools. Such effective weapons, hands don’t even need to be lifted, attention isn’t paid. I go broken and unnoticed about the sea. Her chilled wake beckons me like a chair in my living room-
-I awake drowning.
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