Heave

The rain has come

He surrenders to his fate

It is hiding him

From the sounds of his mental state.



And the rain falls

And the rain pours down.



It is fair to say

That he drifted

On the salt of the open sea

And the words that bleed in his month

Carry him, drag him to the deep.



Heave your arms

Caught adrift

Embrace the shade.



The drama is torn asunder

Thus I fall inside my fate

Waiting for the fever

And I will sing to my crusade.



Between the barren and fruitful

I got lost in the daily grind

There is no way that supports my

Dark conceptions to unwind.



I am the art for the people

The apple of their crying eyes

Missionaire for the seeking

Chewing their lives with contempt.



Like a stormfront that he precedes

It is the sound of the dreamer that screams

Bashing clocks he had always wondered

But never spoke of

It is the strength, the weakness

And the perfect in between.



Facing everything that he walked upon

The eye had hurried by

Compromising the smallest

Fractions of a particle.