I understand the anger in the words but not the words. Maybe we will master a grief that we have, to hang in the scaffolds of the clouds like a condemned angel, I should be what I seem, an unstable Captain remembered like a whale-bled ocean, undreamed shores and a silhouette blanketing a pale face like a poem, a face like sugary rain, seek happiness on rainy days, despair and the underwater judgement of the eye, the ghosts.
