The loss

I found myself this time left with the theft,
he was at ease as the easel was in front of him with shades of gray that would not fade on the canvass,
as he looked down, past the strangers frowns he would see past the hollow souls,
so many now it makes a new ocean within the depth of a specific pacific depth,
where the heart of man is laid to rest where the light of light is never to shine..

I see more and more drown,
past the depth where many are stimulated to remain and smile at the scorn,
where it feels free, to allow a disease to eat them freely...

I cannot explain it deeper anymore..
I do not wish to dive lower,
yet I can see humanity in the shallow end, in the warmth of current of lies,
where the dead's blood warm the shores...

I am cold..
So far bellow,
with each depth I dive lower I go,
and the sanity of logic becomes the illusion leaving the tide the only rhythmic echo..

I found the third degree in the sea that was fresh with death,
it was laying next to the nest of ovaries of mankind's second best,
it was dying with the crabs who once had a grasp in a high tide where the sand stood tall and had stride within the waves,
before the red tide made the low tide hide on one side...

I am here before,
I still sound once more,
out of tune,
out of shape,
out of a current space,
yet truth be told,
we will die where we were born...

One last reverb for the lost and confused..


When it takes a hoard of men to make a chord,
that is heard in the reverb of time we call history,
it is then, we must proclaim we are nothing more than animal..

No matter how high we can reach the accord,
we still fall flat on the stinction and distinction of an animal...

We live in a borrowed time,,,

can someone hand me a towel I am climbing outta the water now...