Self-destructive (The ocean like the brain)

[heslopian]

I was a tad confused by the narrative at first, as I thought you were saying, in the second stanza, that you'd been saved from the sea by the mystery man, and now were standing safe in his home. Very good piece though, covering an old theme with a certain freshness, though it sputtered a bit here and there.

Self-destructive. (The ocean like the brain)
LiteraryFailurePiece.

Fallen to an infinite, distancing sea
inching my way back to the beach.
I am worthless in waves of white and grey I love that line so much I want to hug it
bobbing, beside bottled letters, in the evening spray. Are those "bottled letters" needed? It sounds too contrived, in my opinion, and hurts the atmosphere. I think this verse would work better if there was no reference to any human artefacts, if all that was present is you and the world. Then the isolation theme could really envelop the reader.

Standing in your terracotta living room Do you need that adjective? I liked it at first, but looking back I think it stalls the rhythm of the piece. Seeing as you never identify the man, this information isn’t really required.
my mind is as clear as the clean wallpaper. Same problem. What you could do is write another stanza describing the living room, if you really want to set the scene, but these tidbits of info just clutter up the verse.
I am swallowing my way back to the sub-ocean, Not sure what you mean by “sub-ocean,” but that could just be me being dense
You've forced down my throat your wicked potion

Wakened to the noise of bottles uncorked, Ditto my comment on the last line of the first stanza.
I clamber onto a raft that can carry my weight.
I am bobbing above the infinite, distancing sea Like the establishment of a refrain, though it isn’t very consistent.
and praying to God for a reason to be.

The seasons are shifting and the tide is coming in.
I could not sleep in the forgotten realm, Another line I want to hug
this place I swam so you can't infiltrate
this love for you, this internal rape.

When the beach meets my skin,
soft pebbles graze my cheek. Beautifully evocative.
I'm a ticking bomb that cannot be timed If it cannot be timed then why is it ticking?
and will not seek closure it cannot find. I like this line. There’s a sassy kind of wisdom to it.

Still lost to the infinite, distancing sea
inching further, further from the beach.
I am speechless in silence of white and grey
bobbing, with bottled love letters, in the evening spray. I think I get what you’re trying to do with those bottled love letters, but they just don’t work for me. The whole idea is too Mills & Boon (IMHO).

All in all, a dark and moving love poem, mature yet charmingly naive. One to be read by young romantics