What's the last line?

Hey ATS look! I'm sleep deprived!

Nothing like a little risk, right?

If I wake, and this is still a bad idea, there's always the usual avenue of bribery and blackmail to make it disappear... I've been to that circle.

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Stepping right into it, I'm going to assume some of you, at 17, wrote when it hurt, read when it didn't, and still have that stash of embarrassing poetry hidden away on your hard drive.

If you're going to vomit when I mention that I ran across mine, don't even fancy it, just picture a wall. Oh yeah, then spend the rest of the day being tortured by your own.

Anyway, looking through mine from an older perspective, there were always those few that I couldn't seem to complete without wrecking.

Soft in the middle, loss of voice, too many syllables in the one line (that happens to capture the title)... always something.
For two or three, I can't seem to settle, and I know they're there somewhere complete. I'd just like to read them, already, and can't imagine I wouldn't recognize them if I did.

Historically, I think the last "complete me" thread I ran across crashed and burned, and I probably should have offered some encouragement, but I rarely drink. Deep, and alone, can't be the most forgiving place to come across a lack of interest. Here there is no such cry for help, though, I'm merely playing with the words.

Who knows, maybe meeting others with the same interests as yourself is worth the fear. Not me, you. I'm a carpenter/pilot with a reputation to live up to.

Any criticism is welcome. "Corny" and "Limp" are still a break from the politics of war.
Come to think if it, somebody gave me a "weird" today, but then they took it back! Felt a little robbed.

What's the last line?
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The Sea of the Sad

The lonely drift a silent tide,
they ride a sea of tears.
The pain has filled it far too wide,
for anyone to hear.

Or feel the need, that drowning fear
of being cast aside.
The silence fills, it's all too clear,
the muffled cries they try to hide

The ships that passed with no reply
ride ghostly waves of hate.
With any luck, they'll will win their wars
before it's all too late.

They'd never know they're not alone,
the fog so thick ahead,
but cutting horns of hell have blown
and brought to life the dread.

Their empty hulls are fragile shells,
there's nowhere to escape.
The dead man rings his shiny bells.
He's in their head, their soul to rape.

They're tossed about on swells of fire,
Their lust just fans the heat.
Heavy, slow, they fill with desire,

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reply to post by lernmore


AND THE FLAMES CLIMB HIGHERRRRRR!!!!!!!(mind you im reading this like a 80 rock song)

They're tossed about on swells of fire, Their lust just fans the heat. Heavy, slow, they fill with desire,

reply to post by lernmore


Like bowels with disgust and deceit ....hows that?

Their decadence nearly complete.

reply to post by lernmore


into a climax as cold as sleet