Driftwood’s Lament — thehypocrite

Driftwood’s Lament — thehypocrite

The sea is cold, but it contains the hottest blood of all. Red light flashes up above— off: one, two, three, four on: one, two, three, four off: one, two, three, four on: one, two, three, four This bed is an ocean. I cling to the flotsam at the tide’s whispering edge. Can’t get in, can’t get off. Once upon a forest, a mighty oak— men with salted tongues and stars in their eyes laid hands and whispered destiny. Hewn, sawed, and shaped, I became t…