Along the sea shore, I took a book and a pen,
At the vent of the wave, I laid like a whore,
Songs that made me shed dripped from the crest in my chest ,
It rang from the tales of memories, there I reminisced.
Memories of loved and unloved ones that can‘t be shattered,
The soft lips of his on my nape Or the soundtrack of my bed tape
though they were touching and filthy stories of mine,
These memories can’t just past my mentation.
I laid like a mistress getting laid,
Life was a fantasy with what I had paid,
I wrote these scriptures like the revelation’s of John the apostle,
I sober for what I did and paid in this epistle,
Memories mesmerising, tantalising and paralysing.
The sea taught me how to live with no end ahead,
Always believing a day of relieve, waving like the waves of oceans,
Lust can’t have it all when you tell all the tales it entails,
In these monuments I avail the assumptions of doubt.
COINED FROM ANGLES THAT PARALYZED (A.T.P) ANTHOLOGY