stone cold - hollow

fingers

tearing up,

shreding the pieces,
a corruption of the heart,
smoke drifting over cold waves.
you never understood that motive,
or the way that chaos ruled my head,
the way that the passion drives the sea.
with the destructive force that governs us
or the inability to steer through any storm
but then again the storm is of our making
and only the rain can placate the blind
who refuse to accept the vision that
rises upon chill marbled slopes.
maybe its just the side effects
of the drug that we took
leaving us inert and
bereft of warmth.

stone cold.

hollow.