~~~

At dusk the tides deliver up the dead.
Appointed by the isle, I burn with blame.
One hundred forty holes I’ve dug and fed.
One hundred forty holes that curse my name.

The surf pulls sand away beneath my feet.
No mercy spared by sea for Man or grain.
She gloats before the shores of my defeat,
And taunts with crushing waves at my remains.

My mouth retains the taste of salt and death.
The sun has long since scorched my skin and sin.
Alone, but not alive, I mock each breath,
Retrieve my bloated corpse… and dig again.

Tomorrow, clock resets with number one.
My island hell won’t rest for what I’ve done.

~~~