Zala

If you'd please only see, in this strange lantern light, ballast carries no sympathy, you cough a cigarette throat, look at your swollen thighs, drink keeps you afloat, you'll stand little scrutiny, God knows if you're right, but this trip's no guarantee, between you and the coast, what gets lost at night, no wind chills the you most, you knows what it means, to lose dreams even slight, otherwise you'd scream, 'Dump me in the sea,' a demand from on high, no fire or blue anemone's, between you and the tide.