In times I feel like I can’t breathe
Like I’m under water. It holds me.
I can’t get up with help. Slowly falling to the bottom.
The surface fades, a dying gleam,
The phantom of a waking dream.
The currents weave a liquid shroud,
Where silences cry out aloud,
And shadows drink my final breath,
In this, the cold, abyss of death.
No angel’s hand shall pierce the gloom,
To save me from this restless tomb;
The tide above may crash and weep,
But I am wedded to the deep.
Forever bound, forever still,
To suit a dark, unyielding will,
Where ancient horrors softly creep,
And pull my soul to endless sleep.
I am not here. I am dead. Although I cannot perceive this in my own mind, I can feel it.
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 6:41 PM UTC
In times I feel like I can’t breathe
Like I’m under water. It holds me.
I can’t get up with help. Slowly falling to the bottom.
The surface fades, a dying gleam,
The phantom of a waking dream.
The currents weave a liquid shroud,
Where silences cry out aloud,
And shadows drink my final breath,
In this, the cold, abyss of death.
No angel’s hand shall pierce the gloom,
To save me from this restless tomb;
The tide above may crash and weep,
But I am wedded to the deep.
Forever bound, forever still,
To suit a dark, unyielding will,
Where ancient horrors softly creep,
And pull my soul to endless sleep.
I am not here. I am dead. Although I cannot perceive this in my own mind, I can feel it.
