titantic of imagination.
dear crew,
this is what they found of us.
skeletons clinging to a treasure chest
the only witness
the slowly fading beauty of our bow spirit.
we held the key. like we held our breath.
unbeknowest to those who may adventure to dig up our remains.
- we were working together. in this final snap shot moment.
oxygen escaping before time could have found us.
on a shore. any shore.
our final thoughts
floating up with our ghosts.
and the parts we hold the most sacred vanish as time permits.
and the idea we clung to sit and waits patiently.
(as only an inadament can)
and this water is too deep to haunt.
because no matter how scary we try to be...
- the sharks teeth will always be bigger then ours.
sending from thigh down shaking.
sending ghost like ripples.
like sonar... bouncing in the deep.
and dolphins hear it and think..... "imma ignore this shit."
but we will be some creatures happy hour.
but our pirate hearts stay.
even after the best parts of us have slipped off.
flesh and spirit leaving- which one first.
and argument only the living can make.
along with...do we leave behind more then corpses. .
in a following moment they find us. our skeleton remains. born once as babes.
only accesories to the idea we once saught.
pirates life for me.
the idea locked inside a chest...deep down still smells like old books.
of authors long dead before these skeletons born.
the old book smell with rise one day as they open the chest. the idea we once held..
we watch the chest blossom in the corner of our haunting spot.
our ghosts so waterlogged we haunt in area codes now.
and we watch
the living
wide eyed
mouth gap
to what we've learned this whole time.
the best of us is locked inside.
