Maybe Those Were The Days

   Maybe those were the daysI wasn’t so perfect, structured or neatRebelling against all humanityCouldn’t tell the difference in defeatA crooked line to followA wrinkled brow upon the figureheadOur dreams fractured when appliedLost within reality’s pragmatism instead

A Naked Woman Upon The Figurehead

A naked woman upon the figureheadStanding proud in the breezeCalling to the Sirens & wenchesKnowing the truth of these seasHer beauty remaining firm & intactThe ship around her orange with rustThe sailors with splinters in their palmsFor she has a wooden bust