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Plunging shark-shaped cigarette,
ends. Into, my silhouetted, skin. Silent.
Prayers for, extinguished days.
Or, hours, when thoughts
won’t, constantly, pirouette.

A slashing shark-toothed blade.
Cuts and degrades, over shadows,
in secrecy. Lips bind, beleagueredl-ly.
Twisting shushed unbelief in me.
As, this horrored-tranquility, pervades.

The harm, I did, unto myself,
left it’s embittered mark.
On, uncalming, mental ill-health,
ocean battlefields, stark.
Alarmed swallowing depths,
were revealed, underneath dark.
Disheartening a vessel, unhelped,
pursued by open-jawed sharks.

The sharks, of which, I speak,
are inhumane killers.
Of, misfortunate minds,
in drowned waters, unstill.
That bear, the same, wretched
and unlucky stigmas.
Which, pierce lost, holy skins,
twist bad – goodwill, fill
empty, breathless lungs,
pickle dismal, drunken livers.

And, as I swim, through fierce,
wild waves of fear.
On black horses, riding low,
made from my tears.
In spirit, I wear, my armour,
my shield, my spear.
To do battle with makos
invisible, eerie, unclear.
To slay sea-dogs, hush barking,
at kept bay, on depthless frontiers.

© poormansdreams

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