555

In ten years from now I hope to believe. I hope these two feet can stand solidly threw the pyroclastic flow. I turn my head now,downwards in motion,only to see my old man...the ocean. His waves crush the land beneath,creating a moat around me made from sea. Fish quiver and rattle on the soaked sand as I hear whales in the distance,Jesus fuck,such magnificent sounds. These are not war fearing people;they simply haven't a concept. Telegraphs and postcards bombard my heart. I miss the way things use to be. The only thought is change,really the only radical way to assimilate. Feathers pour down from the sky,as a delusion of words catch my eye. I've been haunted for a while. I creep down dark stairs into the hull of my cabin,the spirits are listless in the dark. They've been talking to me,asking if I could help them be free. The graveyard is quiet across the street. The rain still hints at its release. Brief encounters with past lovers via damaged thoughts causes me to cough up a petition to a decree. No more envelopes. No more bites from the coral reef. No more ordinance,or ordinary sleep. I merely want to breathe,but the air is too cold to see.