It's a strange thing to look inside yourself
and see darkness, black oil bubbling
with animal feathers floating,
drowning in the thick.
I feel like a well, with nothing but depth
with no one to pull me out, no rope
to even hang myself with.
When you sit in the darkness
with wings too sticky to fly out
you see faces and reflections
that take your mind and stretch it
into unrecognizable shapes.
I am stuck in the oil
of my compressed stress.
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 3:30 PM UTC
It's a strange thing to look inside yourself
and see darkness, black oil bubbling
with animal feathers floating,
drowning in the thick.
I feel like a well, with nothing but depth
with no one to pull me out, no rope
to even hang myself with.
When you sit in the darkness
with wings too sticky to fly out
you see faces and reflections
that take your mind and stretch it
into unrecognizable shapes.
I am stuck in the oil
of my compressed stress.
