Halfway between Alaska and oblivion

I see the sea as a blanket field of red ruby and blue sapphire armies, oceans of men that consume each other. The entire view sky rests within your eyes, and your hands conduct only an empty stage. Pass the toast of wine and pour into the streets. You are the conductor because you built a house on sand and set this ship in motion. Keep asking all the wrong questions. No one lied to you more than yourself. This city is on the brink, delaying its time before it sinks beneath the dark and the murk of decay. Now the hand connects to the heart halfway between Alaska and oblivion and there is no longer any accountability in this city. You kept all of the promises you never made. If this ship ran ashore, we would never even notice. We are too busy calculating the wind and mapping the currents and raising the sails and being overcautious and overzealous for calm waters and too damn stubborn to smash though the hull. None of this will matter or make a difference if we never hoist the anchor holding us here. We are just dead weight in sunset in Salt City. It is time we take drastic action. Let's be dramatic. Let's engage mutiny. Let's jump ship.


Or, let's clock in. Let's do lunch. Let's forget I said anything…
halfway between Alaska and oblivion.