Apogee

Vetted up just watch ourselves fall the seasons change but our shame still rests in it's stalemate pose in the full view, in the living room. Hopeful faces facilitating the rest of our lives from the 1880 something porthole on the ship that is always at sea. Wanting the outward and cursing the inward we watched and prayed for fantasies while our loved ones planned out or deaths slow, casual, and all inclusive to showcase their grief like tribal ecstacy. 

Gradual duality anchored to our feet as we are thrown over to waves as accidental sacrifice to no names, no faces, surnames are just going to weigh us head over shoulder while we are held down by the tips of their fingers. Holding our breathes we hoped for better days but also better ways to hold our heads underwater so we can breathe easy for a while. As we are corrupted we are forced to become unreal, and non-existence for the convenience of the addictions to function the better the mask the better the accidental sacrifice.

As you close your eyes the funerals come in a flash of the celebration of their perfect loss, their near miss and close calls. We float on, we dance on and we run wild into new memories that don't have to come up for air as the suburban ships have docked, and rotted port side in days, and eternities past. Homages were due as we let the sea know that we understand the cloudless haze as there is no more we need to say. Our captors were swallowed up by the swift tides of time and don't get to swallow their pride, or choke on the goodbyes. 

Here we are sipping long in golden sonnets, and enjoying the sea-less breeze and I don't want to say goodbye because it's over.