Close? Too far? The demon's in the distance.
As my blood abandons this sinking ship,
Over razor rocks stood like broken teeth,
This vessels soul owner ceases to be me-
The sails are snapped and skeleton shorn,
In the end the Wood belongs to the sea.
Hot air shakes me at the death of the storm,
And a bitter taste remains, laced with pain.
Freedom's flown, leaving me and me alone,
A slave to fortune, to you, to the sea.
Setting out sanguine and ending the same,
Each journey's made with intrepidation.
This mortal toil is path independent,
Whatever your route, same destination.
An inch is a mile when life is apart,
Each heartbeat drops at destiny's mercy.
Everyday's another dance with decay,
And each scrape is just another embrace.
So 'A brush with death?' flap my limey gums.
'I'm dead in the end, was dead all along.'