The Fisher

My croft is at sea,
With my fishes
And my own sense of blasphemy.
Damn you, pale nebula,
My navigation
Is by polyp and medusa.

When the shore's in sight,
I clutch at my throat,
Longing for your tentacles
To suck on my boat.
On my haggard deck awash with rain
I stand, reeling in a net of pain.

Oh maelstrom, spin the fabric of my freedom,
Sunken iceberg, be my palace in the ocean,
The empty stores are where I make my feast,
And albatross, be my herald of peace.

When the shore's in sight,
I clutch at my throat,
Longing for your tentacles
To suck on my boat.
On my haggard deck awash with rain
I stand, reeling in a net of pain.