Piss and Such
It has become evident to me whether I can fathom it or not.
And now have to make sure that the word is clear and brought forth in a manner that you will understand.
The Vessel is pushed from the bank. it is loaded and his mission is certian. He does such things to make the world a better place. It is easier to understand to him now that he has been trained, cleaned, fueled.
The passengers sigh and hand the man their tickets. They smile in the most pretentious ways. He nods and thinks about his wife and children at home. Home is a word that means about as much as the sharpie writing on the outside of a cardboard box tossed to decompose on the side of the highway.
He reaches into his pocket and looks at the clock. The passengers walk carelessly on the deck of the Vessel, the Vessel sighs under their weight. He is old and weathered, he is tough and brittle. The passengers throw their shit on the floor. The journey is doubtful and the Vessel takes tumbles under the waves of the ocean. The ocean wishes it could be anywhere else. The Vessel pushes on and eventually docks.
At the dock, the passengers wake from their slumber and begin to dismount. They leave their trash in the cabins. The review is simple and sweet. The captain wishes them a safe and happy trip. The captain sighs and lights a match. The Vessel is "too worn to make another trip", he lights his cigarette.
The captain leaves the Vessel in a dank and dreary shallow puddle. The puddle never dries. The Vessel is eaten by the weather but gnawed more so by his accomplishments or lack there of.
I wish I wasn't a Vessel, but fuck it.