The Last Storm

 

      

The docks rocking, the waters not stopping, the waves
arnt dropping, the wakes arnt fading. My hearts racing,
with death chasing for a quick embrase, face to face
as i ask and say, take me to the beach before this water
begins to breach my lungs that burn with the water turns.
It spins and rips causing me to slip and trip into this liquid
abiss, but as I fall my mind seems to stall, trying to recall,
remembering when I hit that wall, causing me to be the
oceans ragdoll. But then it sinks, as im six feet benith,
this damn design in my mind, intertwinded with thoughts
of suiside that now completely bind. I'm now outta time but hell give
me a break theres no need for me to bake, but to my
mistake, the devil laughs as he slapps his knees, knowing
that I'm the one thats killing me. And it would seem that the atmosphere
I cant seem to adhear thats causing me to fear but yet
its so clear, as my deadline nears, that this surrounding
atmosphereic hell is balancing with the one inside myself.
I cant help but to scream when theres no upstream or
down, just the sound of a newly found quiet around, so from
one storm to another that smothers to where i cant recover.
Wrap me up in covers when im on the bed of death's as
his honored guest, with no regret for in stone its set,
that this soldier can finally breath, with the boots off his feet,
and hes finally able to sleep u know hes at peace. sleep tight

                                                                                 Robert E. Lane