Published February 12, 2010
My soul is like a hunk of driftwood, being tossed and battered unmercifully by the raging seas and gusting winds.
It cries out to be rescued, to be plucked away from the pounding waves, the cold penetrating slaps of spume that engulf me, pulling me down into the inky
Blackness,
the salty lies and sweet, yet phony smiles of the shark, the poisonous, yet innocent stingray....
Oh how I loathe the sea!
My strength, whether it be in the heart or mind, is beginning to fade,
to be sucked from my body like the air in my lungs. My limbs grow cold, tired.
My muscles ache, it hurts to open my eyes.
The blinding sting of the tempest froth and the wind make me ready to give up, to close my eyes, to let the blackness slip over me cracked, bloody lips, to
Sweep,
sweep silently up my nostrils, up to my brain,
to splash and hiss like acid down my torn throat, into my lungs,
Killing me softly, oh so softly.
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139,669 Literary Works • 672,647 Reviews
Hello darkwriter15,
This was really awesome!
I really liked your use of words and metaphors.
Just one little thing confused me. Pardon me if I'm just being stupid but:
Was the inky and blackness supposed to be part of the same statement? Because to me "pulling me down into the inky" doesn't make much scene. Again, pardon me if I'm just being stupid.
All in all I think you did a really good job
hippie_vampire
Amazing! You have a great style of writing and your word choice for this piece is just great! The title caught me for a moment and I wondered if I should read it. Well, I'm happy I did because if I didn't I would never know your soul is like a hunk of driftwood. XD PM me if you need some serious critiques,
winie
**Like!**