||[Jun. 30th, 2012|11:37 pm]
Sling me under the sea.
Pack me down in the salt and wet.
No farmer's plow shall touch my bones.
No Hamlet hold my jaws and speak
How jokes are gone and empty is my mouth.
Long, green-eyed scavengers shall pick my eyes,
Purple fish play hide-and-seek,
And I shall be song of thunder, crash of sea,
Down on the floors of salt and wet.
Sling me... under the sea.
Bones by Carl Sandburg
hate this period of transition :( missing old faces, old spaces, old laughters and old fun. but its like being in love with the past who doesnt love you back.