A hollow rusty sound of thump thump

All aboard, we were. Or so I thought.

I leaned over the deck and watched the mainland shrunk into nothingness, not even a speck. The damp, cool steel seethed my skin as sea mists rolled and lingered for company.
 
I have eaten all my provisions and drank the last drop of my sanity. And in the midst of this white silence, my only source of comfort stems from my own voice — some days a whisper, most of the time a scream.
 
A hollow rusty sound of thump thump breaking every rib in my body.
 
Stranded I have been, and running out of words I am. I leaned over the deck and watched my empty space — the inviting void, the welcome feast, my splintered ribs.
 
And I fell, down down this nautical graveyard, and no one heard a sound.
 
Not even the sullen rain.
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s