we pace our own shores,
and smother out distant lights
with our hands.
some people seek external communication,
but we’ve had our fill of
tending to feelings,
treading softly on unknown relationships.
this is an island surrounded by rock
with no lighthouse to warn
passersby who might
die
in pitching and rolling and crashing
waves. torrents of swirling black
that swallow the curious
and never spit them back.
Perfect… ~_^
i like this one just…..,,,,,,,
i smell the mix of salt and blood….,,,,
“that swallow the curious
and never spit them back.”
bravo…..
comment by gerald on 06/27/08 at 11:32 pm
Beautiful.
comment by Ethan on 07/16/08 at 1:26 am
Justin. I have a weird request of you. Email me, foo’.
comment by Cass on 07/24/08 at 3:20 pm