Helle, and you escape up on the ram.
Gold, hot fur under your hands.
Time...and the water swallows up whats whole of your soul.
(oh sister dear, we had to run away then)
Water falls heavy on your chest.
Unholy time flows swiftly, your apart of the strait.
One to four miles wide, the Aegean Sea swallows you up.
The Sea of Marmara has got your soul.
About Me
- T.K. Rousseau
- I write, explore randomly around the town I live in, and I often forget what I was doing whilst exploring. I stare at the sky, night and day. I kick rocks when I walk. I sometimes miss the mark, trip and fall. I like water. I like calm music. I like loud and rambunctious music. I want to live by the ocean one day, preferably the Pacific. Not in a town or city, maybe a village, but secluded from humanity but close enough to see and touch it. I want to one day own one pair of shoes and live off of what my writing can bring in. I want simple living but the type of simple that is elaborate. I'm rambling on I suppose.
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