Christened

Anchors' weight arrests motion on bloated dips and crests, pinning this expression of my life's black or white into your definition of who I am, in the vast watery sea of possibility. The flag semaphore displays different messages from the face that ends up peering starboard into your watercraft. This glimpse of my actuality is burdensome, heavy to shoulder and hard to bear. I feel the iron scape across the sea floor of your being, watch the waves beat against my dead weight revelations, and note the nauseating green tint in the taunt skin of your caring face. Oh, to endlessly drift in uncaring winds and ever-altering directions, oh the damage to the capain's log and the needless confusion plotted on discarded maps, bearings askew in my bewildered escape, disruptions are the storm emerging outward from my ship's wheel! Sun and moon and wind and water and pain, the name of my sea vessel is Disillusionment.