Drunken Anchor, Drown Seas

Halnya Andri: Coors coursing, scorching stones Hold me, through the slaugther Caught him, bothered; jameson merauder There are bullets in my teeth Dark waters, rising; excising all sense I misremember my love, to forget The sweat-stenched cheeks, bleak hollows Soft and shallow daugthers, coddled By bottled forefather's, make it blurry Curry favor, sully the twisted flesh Pinkish clouds of snakes, counting worms Fishnets, counting lost boats; I searched at sea Found you anchored, cankersores, and bakers burns I was no lighthouse, rifled papers, and drought Salted cores, the stomach turns Surrounding oceans, brimming hopeless moments I feigned, nuturting glances: clashes Hidden from intoxication, patience Virtures of the newly deceased Too afraid to ask questions, too weak Shameful, of our sorry state The fate of modern divers, doomed empires Sold down the river, to ocean spout Pouting out frustrations, too empty crowds Am I diseased, did you led me to believe That there was no rule to make exceptional Perception of a tired haze, fog rolling Cold shivers, between my eyes and new splinters You will soon leave, through colder winters My flare, dug into bones with care I stare out into the vaccuous pools I was once drowning, now I'm unquenched by drool Incensed by depth, breathing in new taste So disgraced, by my limitations, solid state I never once had a real face, dew drop fate I shook the braces, one chance at revival Grasping your raft, with no chance of survival New shores to die in, I left it solemn Cradled by the salt, carried to the bottom The boards, held aloft, dry rotten Stolen by the waves of tomorrow ITSD: Two supposed golden arches flank fifty stars
 They wanna colonize mars, turn it into this Gig in a dive bar corner gamblers won’t know what hit ‘em The gestalt a hiss and pop, dogs bark from their dens Corvid repatriated gems and petty landlords Smudged lens, neon-jones Discarded cardboard sword
 On 33 there’s snow cones, ward of the state
 Hand over your deceased they’ll be used as bait Clasped hands, mumble through grace Imperial paint Pink glass feast carry that weight through the guts of the beast