Into the Depths

Into the Depths

The decaying smell of shell-fish,

hanging on brisk breezes,

putrid yet purified by the

salt of the ocean.

The sea's harvest

brought to shore

by the toil of honest men.

Amongst the discarded catch

my soul lies,

a mere spineless mollusc

abandoned with no hope

of redemption.

The ribs of this ship,

once stout and oaken,

lie split and exposed

to the baking, bleaching sun;

original sin the anchor

which drags my very being

into the depth of

hell's trenches

and prevents this phoenix

from rising.

 

08/09/16