I will be young and this shall be yours.
When I am gone you shall sing chorus.
Inside of a cliché’s open mouth, sat the two of them; a burning bridge by a sinking ship.The bridge was once erect. The ship, once afloat. The bridge had aged early in obstinate boredom of the other. A realist, grinning, the bridge paired the ship’s ideals with its own in sarcastic song; it would bend its pride towards a hidden motive, creating a backdrop to burn apart and exit early from its end of the bargain. It did so, collapsing on the ship; whose captain, now in a dream state, wakes daily and waits for the landlord to take his kids to school. He sneaks out of his apartment to go to work like a fugitive. But apart from the rent,his job, Her, a few bad luck months and all the money that he has spent things feel like they may return to normal. He walks, down to the deli where he sips his coffee and gets his cancer, behind a deep morning light which bleeds ecclesiastically ([sic] dramatically), he watches his hand shake the cup from caffeine in cordiality and remembers himself: The captain’s life, this world, this job. This dream family and friends must be discounted by him. The weight of his obligations in this world are but an insignificant parallel to his true life’s pride: A craft on open waters the ship had majesty and completeness. It was a structure of self respect. Waves once willingly rallied along it’s hull to push, to endless possibilities and places, the vessel. On closing his eyes the captain remembered the reality of this grand process. Feeling cheapened, by seeing the bridge’s purpose was lost, he thought of what it could want. He remembered the water swallow the bridge section by section until the stone, mortar and metal façade reached the ship. shutting his eyes just before impact. The world he knew fell asleep. The dream state began. He thought, as for the Heaven that all Christian men assume real and accepting, this life was limbo by which he must come to terms with a Hell he assumed improbable. Was his life ended in the vein of the bridge lacking esteem? It was something he needed to know. But in this world what did he have? He had to find Her.In a place as different as this, the captain would use his senses with so few familiarities and without a ship. He traveled to the furthest shore with the greatest channel. As he approached the beach, in the shallows he saw Her. She sat, brunette and blue lipped, offset by a dark river and matching perfectly with the shoddy expanse that arched over the bottle green water. He approached Her side.
“Your collapse confused me.”
Her arms were protruding from the water, hands and knees hidden by low tide. “You know, this place is Hell.”
He spoke up again. He noted her pallor, her body shaking in disagreement with her mentality. She was shallow
And reserved disregard with the suffering that he now possessed. He felt this as he did Her defeated esteem.
Sardonically, a cooling breeze piled Her matted hair, undulating listlessly against her elbows as sails to a ship.
He noticed this before her eyes, now looking deep and brown at him. Beguiled, he smiled at Her.
Yet Her face was not in any likeness to his own. It was distorted by guilt and murder. “The reality I
neglect to accept in our world has come before I was able to identify what it was I have done to you.
But here we are in a river that is not real, beneath a sky that does not have air to breath.” The vessels
in his skull began to throb. “I can only say my burning down was out of jealousy. To return to the abyss
from which my stone had come. The very water you sail.” His eyes shut as the grey beyond them teemed
With a million lights and sounds. Opening his eyes again he was struggling to breath in deep water.
Above him the light shot through the debris in creases and dinged pale lengths. The water
was filled with a graveyard of swiftly sinking stone and wood of which the only body buried was his.
When I am gone you shall sing chorus.
Inside of a cliché’s open mouth, sat the two of them; a burning bridge by a sinking ship.The bridge was once erect. The ship, once afloat. The bridge had aged early in obstinate boredom of the other. A realist, grinning, the bridge paired the ship’s ideals with its own in sarcastic song; it would bend its pride towards a hidden motive, creating a backdrop to burn apart and exit early from its end of the bargain. It did so, collapsing on the ship; whose captain, now in a dream state, wakes daily and waits for the landlord to take his kids to school. He sneaks out of his apartment to go to work like a fugitive. But apart from the rent,his job, Her, a few bad luck months and all the money that he has spent things feel like they may return to normal. He walks, down to the deli where he sips his coffee and gets his cancer, behind a deep morning light which bleeds ecclesiastically ([sic] dramatically), he watches his hand shake the cup from caffeine in cordiality and remembers himself: The captain’s life, this world, this job. This dream family and friends must be discounted by him. The weight of his obligations in this world are but an insignificant parallel to his true life’s pride: A craft on open waters the ship had majesty and completeness. It was a structure of self respect. Waves once willingly rallied along it’s hull to push, to endless possibilities and places, the vessel. On closing his eyes the captain remembered the reality of this grand process. Feeling cheapened, by seeing the bridge’s purpose was lost, he thought of what it could want. He remembered the water swallow the bridge section by section until the stone, mortar and metal façade reached the ship. shutting his eyes just before impact. The world he knew fell asleep. The dream state began. He thought, as for the Heaven that all Christian men assume real and accepting, this life was limbo by which he must come to terms with a Hell he assumed improbable. Was his life ended in the vein of the bridge lacking esteem? It was something he needed to know. But in this world what did he have? He had to find Her.In a place as different as this, the captain would use his senses with so few familiarities and without a ship. He traveled to the furthest shore with the greatest channel. As he approached the beach, in the shallows he saw Her. She sat, brunette and blue lipped, offset by a dark river and matching perfectly with the shoddy expanse that arched over the bottle green water. He approached Her side.
“Your collapse confused me.”
Her arms were protruding from the water, hands and knees hidden by low tide. “You know, this place is Hell.”
He spoke up again. He noted her pallor, her body shaking in disagreement with her mentality. She was shallow
And reserved disregard with the suffering that he now possessed. He felt this as he did Her defeated esteem.
Sardonically, a cooling breeze piled Her matted hair, undulating listlessly against her elbows as sails to a ship.
He noticed this before her eyes, now looking deep and brown at him. Beguiled, he smiled at Her.
Yet Her face was not in any likeness to his own. It was distorted by guilt and murder. “The reality I
neglect to accept in our world has come before I was able to identify what it was I have done to you.
But here we are in a river that is not real, beneath a sky that does not have air to breath.” The vessels
in his skull began to throb. “I can only say my burning down was out of jealousy. To return to the abyss
from which my stone had come. The very water you sail.” His eyes shut as the grey beyond them teemed
With a million lights and sounds. Opening his eyes again he was struggling to breath in deep water.
Above him the light shot through the debris in creases and dinged pale lengths. The water
was filled with a graveyard of swiftly sinking stone and wood of which the only body buried was his.
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