stryka

I am nothing but a shell of the I once was,
So you can put me to your ear and actually hear yesteryears ocean.
I was in shape then, a much better built body of water with infinite waves and fathomless depths where you couldve gone deep sea fishing for complements and caught plentiful schools of reassuring comments.

You fell for the bait and got hooked on what you thought I was
now were both struggling to win this tug of war of his world where we breath the same air it's just done differently.
Now trying to figure out ways to comfortably survive outside your trap, compromiseing intelligence I dabble in watered down thoughts that flitered in from mainstream.

I'm offering mind altering ideas that make the most quiet nature dream, no scream from exposer to the types of things that won't necessarily make you happier, theyll just give you a greater range of emotions and I can feel myself getting lured into deeper oceans of fantasy lands where people think theyre as safe as cartoons simply because they speak in bubbles.

A sanitized safe haven where you can face The Devil and have his faith straightened. His new goal to dethrone Poseidon and have Neptunes place taken.
From this oversize aquarium that daddy kept cleanly to unhealthy degrees, writing suicide notes with invisible ink on transparencies and posting them to the glass boundaries that surround the seas of changes.

Strangely enough, while bringing back the reel, I could sense intense resistence so I had no other choice but to cut the line.
I'm not saying your overly naive I just think you should get into the habit of checking to see when strings are attached.
Fortunate for you I'm compassionate enough to through back what I catch if its underdeveloped and needs time to grow, though, unremorseful of the pain Ive caused
I still want to kiss your lips better.

I sympathize with the sorrow by stroking the scar of my own dramatic experience with my excommunicated tongue.
See I know exactly what you mean when you say it hurts to much to go there. Ive been there.
And dont plan on returning because no matter how much of the distence I kept or how long I waiting for the wounds to heal theyd reopen with the slightest flashback
so I sued time for malpractice, that bitch is a hag with a rusty scalpel and barbed wire stitch thread.

Instead of seeing things clearly they're pitch red and theres this glitch in my head thats got me thinking in contradictions it says "there are more fish in the sea, whether you hear me no , or you listen to me, whether you listen to me I said whether you listen to me. Hear me not. There are more microorganisms in my teardrops. But fear not, I'd never sink us low as to make my ears pop. And I imagine you only want to swim with members or your own league and dont need me meddling sending sonar signals, high pitched notes are symbols.

My voice is thrown far but ripples are only caused when you cast stones But you shouldnt throw rocks if you live in fragile fairytales.

See when you put a shell to your ear it's not the sound of crashing waves your hearing its the amplified current of your own cold bloodstream. It was your self pluses that created that false not so human illusion of me. Your tireless heart pumping out an ocean of lies and I foolishly try filling impossible shoes, resulting in my stumblings,
I fall into the trap of making water my element and I just can't get comfortable with the sea sickness.