Fucking Blank Page
Twine wraps around my aging body,
too tight, the circulation is cut off. Purple skin.
Pulsating, beating, dead.
No embrace from the feel of something different.
I’m terrified of life, because life has chewed my soul down to rubble.
and I’m still alive.
So I sit, I won’t brave another attempt.
The storm, the one where Christ awoke and with a wave from his mighty hand it stopped, ceasing to rage on.
All the fisherman saved, while his legacy grew.
a different storm, My storm, capsized the boat and Christ never awoke.
He drowned. I drowned.
The twine around my throat, wrapped around until my body croaked.
The waves they crashed my lifeless limbs against the aging rocks.
Blood stained the sea, while sharks took bits from my abdomen.
And everyone wonders why I keep to myself. A hermit, without any notes.
Loner, Loser, trapped in a four walled sanctuary, television blaring.
Fucking blank page. My Legacy dead.