Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Ghost Ship








































Ghost ship sailing
in the middle of the night.
Sailing like the devil 
before high tide
surrenders to the light.
I try not to wonder,
a derelict.
There comes a time 
to pack it all in.
Everything’s more temporary
than the tattoos on my skin.
Leave no trace.
We’re all destined for dust,
train station love and carousel rides
we can never feel too much.