thelastasthmatic

the rain is falling on my roof. i am drinking smirnoff, and justin sullivan is singing about the ocean rising...

i stand on the precipice and howl at the breakers pounding in the storm. the lighthouse stands before me,it's polished mirror shattered,casting light in a thousand directions. i can no longer see the ship,can only feel its course towards the jagged maul of the rocks below.

i stand in the malestrom of wind and sea,of rock and mud. i stand with arms upstretched to an angry sky,with fist clenched in defiance.

"i will not go gently..."