...As for all the little fishies...

[guppyiii]

There's a cold finger on my spine, playing me...a very confused musician...filling me with vibrations like a nervous sea...waves of soft pluckings, striking chords deep within...a hurricane of sheepish tickling softly roaring in my veins...turning whispers into crashing crescendos, thoughts into screams....dripping wet from pulling currents, clearly here stated as meant to be...the very one who strums my tender coils...the musician, that is me...and I cannot go on, or could, but should not,...shouldn't continue writing operas over empty things, or turning puddles into seas.
More simple is more correct.
Drain the lakes of doubt.
Know only what is right to know
and
live as is right to live.
Become worthy.
Brave the Ocean.
Accept what you have created.
...Now, that's a sweeter tune.
As for all the little fishies,
bedtime is soon.
I'm spent.
-Guppy