Cast a Weigh

If man is an island,
the
kraken of
his own conquests;
with Gods in his grandeur
and the seashells
holding answers
they don’t
divulge,

then
skulls on the
shoreline
sum up the
paradigm
perfectly.

My SOS
would change on a
dime if these
quarters were
more
than
menial metals,

and the central
tenets of their
teachings applied.

But it’s me,
a piece
of string,
the clothes
on my back
and one drink
to last
indefinitely,

ostensibly until
rescue or
death at
the
feet of
fescue,

their roots
perturbed by
the world view in
departing
wisdom.

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