Island Hold

He stands glaring out into the bleak
Stripped of the illusion,
Clouds thunder in, as he bellows
Listening to the callback, of his echo,
Countless scratches upon his calendar
With fading hope that he
Would be uncovered
In a parade of sun,
Yet, he sinks into the cold swamp
With his eyes stitched to the horizon,
The eclipsed moon dropping
The devil’s wing around him,
Snugged fit,
Stolen by this island
Lured by promises of paradise,
Hollow in its dominance
He wants to escape the clanked grave,
Now, that he has stumbled
Into the shallow pool of the siren,
Betrayed by his shadow
Following it’s lead into the permanent
All by a fool stench pervading
The steel chest,
He is weak, only falling to worse
The disease consuming him whole,
Habituated to the island’s clutch,
Too late to run out of the sand
When he’s below the surface
That has engulfed his heart,
Charmed by the illusion
The island claims him,
Swimming out to fish another fool.