Afloat
"
I'm not crying because of you; you're not worth it. I'm crying because my delusion of who you were was shattered by the truth of who you are." -
Steve Maraboli
......
Boston Harbor Islands - 1954
Hibernation's over... I'm out at sea trying to stay afloat
Driving this makeshift boat near the approximate drop location zone
The sky opened up like therapy; the sun's rays just glowed
Grey-ish smoke billowed out as my prey crashed to the waves below
My ankle stowed a vibration... but the symptom isn't known
Looking through the window to the soul is only simple when it's closed
The latest nav system put me over the point of impact
The angel’s wings were destroyed; I actually recoiled when they flapped
It was trapped face down, sputtering - the strangest bubbles came up
I watched something fall from its agape jaw but I couldn't say what...
Je ne sais pas.... Excuse my french - I fell victim to the hell I live in
I hauled the angel on deck, then stomped its chest to expel the liquid
It yelled and quivered, pondering how something inferior trapped it
Fearing the reaction, I quickly dragged it to the interior cabin
Tied up this sacrificial lamb; I've yet to question God's rulings once
These beatings mean peace for humanity, the one thing He
truly loves
He dumps his evil seeds in the sea every six months to appease me
This hunt is easy, but seeing isn't necessary when it comes to believing
I freed its wings, then pulled my knife and sliced them repeatedly
No hiding the feeble screams; maybe
this time I'll finally see it bleed...
Then came the wail of some machine, like a blade through a throat
Raining down blows, I pushed the angel down low and taped its mouth closed
I raced outside, where I noticed a lighthouse on the horizon
A dark reminder that you’ll never find out just how your time ends...
A bald man stood ashore smiling, he said, "That boat has formed a cradle"
Followed by, "I'm just making sure you don't go overboard, Azazel..."
I asked, "Am I not entitled to my fun?" like a cynic with no animosity
"Of course you are," he said, "But there are limits to my generosity..."
The angel got the drop on me... My mistake was leaving it for dead
I was full of immediate regret when it injected a needle in my neck
Nothing had meaning and yet, this angel is without a halo forever
My low perspective showed its feathers were hastily sewn together (huh?)
I glanced at my pant leg - ankle bracelets of this sort seemed fairly new
Memory repaired its roots; that grey billow of smoke became a parachute
No more delusions; Bubbles under water was peaking pressure vapor
The sea did me no favors; What fell from its mouth was a breathing regulator
Truth was being saved for later; Clearly I had been deceived
The angel's lapel read, 'Doctor'; The eyes will see what the mind believes
Got handcuffed and screamed, "C'mon doc', slaying angels means survival!"
I was taken to my rival - The bald man on the dock awaiting my arrival
I shut my eyes quick... recalling memories is what they're asking for
But I can't ignore the sign that read, 'Shutter Island - Psychiatric Ward'
The bald man was Doctor Cawley, there's no straws to be grasping at
He said, "We let you live your fantasies, in hopes you'd see they're exactly that..."
"But you make progress then relapse; it's never been a secret"
"I guess with mental paraplegics... more drastic measures will be needed..."
I heard, "Who's on deck?" "Andrew Laeddis" Ah, the experiment gets deeper
The lesser evil begets a prequel... I guess
he's the second feature
Doctor Cawley said, "No cuffs for Laeddis, I don't want him arresting people"
"Now get a hold of Lester Sheehan..."
"And prep the boat for the next procedure..."
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=iF95pJaGasE