death waves;

i guess all of what navigates in my ocean is fear, 

and i guess everyone's oceans feel scared too

but i just don't think i know how to sail the way they do,

for the waves do not swim clear

by the horizon, that just disappears

when i get blindly fearful and blue.

but i dream to paint this ship with the truth,

if only the magic was here,

and a siren song too to go with my tears.

and maybe i would be able to melt in two

to sail away with you.

winter sleep;

those hands are right there, reaching the top of your head and pressing you under the ice. i wonder how peaceful it is to just be, to breathe in between your senses and emerge from the depths of these uncertainties.

i babble and tremble and fall down instead.

no thread of thought seems to light up to warm my cold hands, to clarify my words, to slow down my shaky breathing. everyone is asleep, leaving this town to freeze.

bottom of the ocean;

there's a reason why the door is always locked. there's a reason why the water is boiling. i don't want the waves in my gut to flood these streets, cause you never know but, under the lid, the tides are mine only, with a path to follow. a very suffocating path but, still, they are only mine to feel. 

you offer your soul to the world but will you live up to where it goes to?

will you draw it the same way it flows? can you mimic its voice, the murmur, the chant you hear deep at night when the moon is high and the waves feel more restless than usual?

when i'm about to close my eyes, it all comes down to this, and i guess there's a reason why the bottom of the ocean is so distant, so far away from here.

it won't live up to where my words float.