Splintered soles and cracked rungs
|
Soaking flames and black lungs
|
Climbing only brings me closer to drowning.
|
Effort only speeds burning embers to rain down
|
|
This ocean's waves crash
|
Up against the varnished sides of the hull
|
Whose walls securely
|
Insulate my heart from the swells
|
But these tides persist, rust grows by the inch
|
Corrosion turns to decay
|
This ship's tired and old
|
Can't take much more of the cold
|
Before it breaks like glass
|
|
I've been drawn and quartered. My limbs anchored
|
To spirited steeds who tear with opposite speeds
|
I've had my turn. I've crashed. I've burned.
|
Through catastrophe, it's been right here in front of me
|
|
This is of epic proportions
|
The essence of enlightenment
|
This is a divination
|
Which I alone am privy to
|
My fears have been
|
Suffocated by vindication
|
My vessel's bow has
|
Detected your beacons along the shore
|
|
I've been drawn and quartered. My limbs anchored
|
To spirited steeds who tear with opposite speeds
|
I've had my turn. I've crashed. I've burned.
|
Through catastrophe, it's been right here in front of me
|
|
So I will grab my pale
|
And drag my shovel across the ground
|
But I'm not striding coasts
|
Building sand castles and moats
|
I'm off to dig my own grave
|
No service is needed. No eulogy here.
|
All I need's this final resting place
|
|
So build me a tombstone
|
Engrave it by hand with "The Boy Who Mishandled Your Heart"
|
(My last goodbyes are to those who'll soon eat my insides)
|
|
I've been drawn and quartered. My limbs anchored
|
To spirited steeds who tear with opposite speeds
|
I've had my turn. I've crashed. I've burned.
|
Through catastrophe, it's been right here in front of me
|
|
-----------------
|
I Am A Heart, Watson. The Rest Of Me Is Mere Appendix
|
Forgive Durden |