it’s probably a metaphor

He lived in the ocean, feeding on bodies of sailors killed by their crew

He choked on fleeing souls and licked off their anchor tattoos, waited impatient for a confused child to drown, called to abused little girls for comfort

He takes lives like shots, in a row, their blood in his flaring veins, coursing, changing, crying to any god above

The souls would whisper through pain, pray to god there was hope, pray to hope there was god

His thoughts killed theirs, slowly making each man, woman, child nothing more than a bodiless clone in a sea that has become sadness