Asylum
What is on your ocean of grieve?
What bitter bile you'll rather regret than reject
What holds you bound?
Border-less borderline; boastful of best burst
That is the mist
Same mix that holds us captive; moist-less
Unwise; you hold it in; otherwise; if you must
Release your cries softly in decibel measurable moan
whale, pant; where pains bite into backbone, beckon, messy morrow
Stress pattern in your voice will whisk you as a whip or more
Subtle chaos don't come in dry or frisky moist
So it must be life's sorrow screwing your being's mega-tron
Like a wattle down mash; some-how watery; some-how moochie longings
As such debacle mirror sorrowful existence
Wipe those mucus off your nose after those tears dry a little
Your body sweat; perspiring skill purse will still be tense