The Storm

I give up.  I’ll let it go.

Mourn the death of lovely hope.

I loved you, you know.

There’s an itch behind my eyes

I can’t destroy or describe.

Blind me, bind me, send me to sea.

Just an awful itch and the fish for me,

Building a place where I can be.

Just be.  And sweat out the storm

That’s growing in me

And threatens to swamp my city,

The populace dead by drowning.

"What do you need?"

What do I need, I thought,

And cursed the world necessity’s wrought.

Oh God, I wish I knew.

I wish I could just choose.

But I guess I’ll just greet today

Until I can blindly sail away.