The Ship to Nowhere

The chimneys launch their darkness upwards,

Upwards and into the clouds.

The smoke comes from the sweats of brows,

of those toiling beneath.

The heat, the grind, the burns, the bruises, they run deep.

The blood mixes with the sweat,

drops trickle into the fiery abyss,

and all you see is the darkness rise up.

The destination is death,

Or at least a version of it.

The shore you left is too far behind,

the closest land,

is where the dead sleep.

The dark abyss at the bottom of the sea,

has the eerie feel to the land you reach.

Both are dingy, surrounded by the like-minded,

And the unlike.

Yet…it reeks with the feel of desolation.

Fear for the known ahead

Fear of the unknown around,

Remorse for the life behind,

Broken with the long walk in between.

There are no life boats,

There are no flare guns,

For a flare gun just sparks and sputters,

and its incandescence,

is a blaze of shame.

To ask for help… unthinkable.

To show emotion…regressive.

Man overboard!

The icy depths chill your spine.

You feel the murmurs,

the tremors,

the lurk of the darkness you gave yourself to.

Head back?

Head away?

You look around and all you see is darkness.

The closest to land is a thousand feet down.

Hell is closer than land.

The light in the distance,
is the ship that left……

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