Some Ship

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.

Lost

She looked at me

I took her hand

In one moment, forever,

We were the sand.

Warm and drowsy 

Lapping the land

Consumed by water

An endless stand

Against lovers forgiven

and moments lost

For time remembered

For lives cost

Until at last

you were caught 

By lead and hatred

and meaningless loss.

To thine own Self

You don't need to lose your mind to find yourself. 

Thin, the castle walls that fall won't reveal some

Notch upon the shelf.  Breaching, shadowed, seldom

worn, coughing, spitting, hollowed, torn words embraced

by soldiered breath wraught your eagled burdened breadth,

Can't be used to self describe. For the patient shallow stride

of the ghost by summers morn in the dew and down reborn,

the distraught valleys of your spine the gaunt and feeble

mallow mind, feeding forlourn naive crypts buried. Hidden

tomb unspent. Named forgotten 

minds relent is all corroded, cyanide beseeched unloaded 

 by the tide washing, wailing whales upended, seeking 

names though names unended can never relish

in the the splendor of one who's found themself.