Pirates?

Image credit: halloweenforum.com

My bloggage may depict a fairly emotionally tumultuous person. Believe it or not, though, i'm pretty mellow, even-keeled, que sera, sera as a sea lion. I don't get riled very often, but i'm tired. Tired of feeling adrift. I'm prolly far enough away from shore to be in the weathered, scurvied, scallywagged stages of it. I'm tired of clinging perilously in the rigging, swinging ropes, perched high in the crows nest waiting, straining for land. Tired of hoping. I'm beaten. Heaving along with the whims and pitches of the sea. Wrecked. Broken. Floating, punchily singing and salty. Wind-whipped. Exposed. Churlish, swords and fists, we bark and parrot, causing a ruckus. Vulgur. Don't give a fuck. Unmoored and boorish. Limping, and leaky and our sails are ripped. Seasick of drifting. Enough. Ready to be steady on two feet. Firm in boots without tossing awake and asleep. Endless. Forever deep. Greens and blacks and blues. Vast and separate and empty. Enough. 

I'm tired of being tough.