A Gentleman made of Salt-Water, Mountains, Tattoos and Ship-Wrecks
Saturday, February 21, 2015
There are no false prophets under the sea
and you were over here,
you were under me.
When my bed became
our church
as we ached for
salvation.
When words
poured down like rain
so thirsty
we
drank from them
so empty
we let them
drown
us.
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