Deaf and Simplistic

Towards the horizon I've been

pointing my sails and praying on winds for guidence,

I know I might look adviceless,

I forgot about writing

and lost my eyelids to lightlessness again.

Stuck in the subtle complexities

of crumbling rubble and wreckage debris

that comfortably huddle themselves next to me.

A blanket that may seem mangy,

yet still its love humbles me strangely.

These ne'er do well limericks killed off the rhythm,

and if you can't hold a rhyme,

where's the beauty in living?

And I know some lines fall deaf and simplistic,

that being said, it's those that I sink or I swim with.

I tend to hit my roll

a moment past when my brain hits the throws,

and searches for a cliff to flip over,

bright and white just like Dover.

It's either that or a plain straight drop to the shoreline,

but I'm a man who holds rhymes, I won't suffer a bored mind.