Bottomless pit

At the bottom of the sea,
lies turbulence and pettiness,
Deep rooted-floral beds
in their multi-colored worlds.

Over the sea there is always a breeze,
gently touching my skin
lashing at the red lighthouse;
illuminating the golden fishes
casting heavy light
on the old, paint-removed railing
from where I pen this.

It’s a field of boulders, with sharp corners and tough surfaces
A death bed. A casket of my own making.
getting lashed against the waves
Shelled inside an old rum bottle-
A note floats;
waiting to be re-opened.

The ship that I have departed
is hooting;
announcing the sharp distance-
between me and the land.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s