"But when crying don't help and you can't compose yourself,
it is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or simple song of hope." Conor Oberst.

The Ocean hangs round my neck It's selfish and spitting and bleeding respect And the captains that sail by All have their first mate Yeah, mine's out there, she's just late

The sea water fills up my nose Just me and my shell fish lover in the cove And as the wind starts to hustle and rustle and blow My lover's the first one to go

And I try not to stare at the clock It's just hard to move forward with your ship on the rocks So I stare at my compass which points out to me For a fish out of water, I can breathe


Submitted: January 27, 2009

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