Being on land is like being a dead seaman

with the teachings of the past
scattered all about a lonely
alcohol drivin' brain

than may these days be swift
with intention of success
of the numbness of regret
of beauty in forgetting

then we, as true humans
ignorant to the cause of suffering
of forgotten friendships
of displaced sanity

displacement is no option
to be runnin' around with no spot
no delicacy of human touch
to remain oblivious

to endure
to know selflessness
because being numb is easy way out

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