As the days get deeper
So does the hole

People start losing their unique ****** qualities
The objects in your house become dull clutter
Monday morphs into Tuesday and Tuesday morphs into Wednesday and Wednesday morphs into Thursday and
All of a sudden you don’t know what day it is.

The only thing that doesn’t lose its edge
Are the words that pump out from your lung,
to vibrate from your vocal cords,
then are fine tuned from your larynx,
and emanate from your articulators.
Those are the words that stuff me deeper into the hole.

Sometimes it’s not words
but actions
That burry me under and into the darkness.

This hole I speak of,
***** you in and won’t let you out
Until you’ve admitted defeat
And hell,
You’ll never live to see the day that

I, Admit Defeat.

Wrap up the love
you so madly give to others
and open it
for
yourself.

Draw me the stars
And I'll write us to the moon
Draw me some tears
I might write you some blues
Colour the roses
From which I write about
Our dreams can be remembered
With pictures and a plot
I'll write what you couldn't
If you draw what I can not

No noise is quiet enough but the silence is deafening

Sleep doesn't come easy when exhaustion is common

How is my skin both too tight and too loose?

You would think, as we move in tune with our planet, that it would be easy to keep our balance.

I've never felt less stable on a flat surface.