This life I had planned to achieve
went out with the note in a bottle
I let slip overboard on a high sea.
As I recall I tried to forget just what
seems now to be more or less
a blurred memory
This life has become out of reach
these words need to be bleached
so screaming fuck won’t be heard
nor the last 104 poems
tossed out and visible in the mirror
loosing myself down a wicked road.