no title
no subheading
Sometimes I forget, I cry.
What good, what bad,
what open, what sad
In the open ocean,
Alone perfectly alone
Without his amigdala
rushing
No, alone I.
And the sea is cool
and cold but warm
by volition,
the cats wait
The fish is swimming
Fishermen are lost
The old gods speak,
Soft, broken, aloft
.
I always love your work, dude! We really need to get around to collaborating on something. Really put the hype train behind what you've got going on. I'm no influencer but if we can do something to get more eyes on your writing, I want to do it. Love ya, brother!