A thousand miles on a midnight cruise
My lover, my wife, and my windswept muse.
They conjure the the eager
The youthful, naive,
Spirit I've sold to some liquid dream
Where one helps me write
The other slowly shreds
The filaments of my mind
The loving daily dread.
This ship it sails
Unabashed through every storm
Showing not on the bow
The wretched words which scorn.
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