A colossal amount of foam down my throat, and the sandpaper scratch of sand in the chimneys of my lungs. A crash of luminescence, and a seasick smile with anchor tips. The screech of midnight ripples through salty sea water, and the keys to an adept pianist's piano, the almost soothing tumble of blood in my ears, the right moment. A blur of tight colors, like azure and the color of the dark, brash and churlish but prudish and pursed in amount, a sigh and a shout and a duck into the hallway of humanity.
A peephole to peer into, and bevies of clouds awash with buoyant stars. A clap of thunder and the smite of lightning, hearing me throughout my lonely tirades. The dominant influence of tides and time. Acquiescing my instinct, sleeping like a madman, boring holes of thought in actions. A hacking, and a burning, and a kinship - a clandestine exploration and a destructive miracle in the swings and sways of loving and missing and realization and profound misery as deep as physical punctures. Maligning the stars, the moon, the sun, you, me, and I squint so I could almost hold on to strands of fluid flame. A pint of madness, an accusing finger, and a march to a conclusion. A prologue to the world, the mind, an accolade to the gods.
This is the promise of the sea. And this is the promise of Life.
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