I say! Why do you grip so hard, that way?
Of what is there left to be afraid?
Let the waves elope with your empty remains.
They erode your foothold, anyway.
They mosh, unaware of their own might
Hypnotizing, shoreward swallowing,
They storm me, ganging upon me!
What’s become of the home that supported me?
Тhey spit me back after drowning me,
Then slip away dragging their fingers behind them.
But you expel the salt,
Sink down lower than the undertow would bring you.
You just don’t seem to see
How returning to them is so far beneath you.
But then, how come my corpse — it rises up?
And it is my soul that has sunk?
Hear! That sound rings out across the land,
Over the roaring waves, through every grain of sand.
Is it of loss and pain or made
To seduce man?
Listen! Oohs and aahs of funeral spectators,
Death admirators
As they bathe in ritual memories
And fake tears.
Life’s underrated, jaded and hatred
Isolate you, so abandon your fears.
And spread my ashes like a bouquet of seeds
Far up, far out!
To show you what I’m made of.
Kill the parasite in every co-dependent
Brain fallen slave to the pull of the waves.
The pull of the waves,
The natural decay
Of all that is made
Is how redemption is paid.
But you expel the salt,
Sink down lower than the undertow would bring you.
You just don’t seem to see
How returning to them is so far beneath you.
Say, Dickinson, who do you blame
For your romantic death wish?
And does it remain true
That angry winds feel like a lover’s breath?
That’s why you grip so hard.
No! It’s simply condition keeping me locked in.
I could escape if I knew how to swim.
Look, feel you’re aided.
Wind, sun and strangers have come
To guide you, so the choice is clear.
We’ll spread your ashes like a bouquet of seeds
Far up, far out!
To show us what you’re made of.
We’ll kill the parasite in every co-dependent
Brain fallen slave to the pull of the waves.
Playfully badgering,
Casually capturing
To escape the surface.
Chaos is to sink,
Not to swim.
You say! To release the stranglehold
Keeping me safely beneath,
But as sea foam rises up,
Tickles my lips and sinks inside
Doesn’t the choice
Of future paths become a matter of pride?
When I’ve struggled so hard to excel,
Why it is so unappealing to survive?