can I even complicate
my continuum of thoughts?
if so, will I ever be able
to stop?
If I dig deeper
There's no air
There's no warmth
There's not a soul being
in sight
Oh, I'll
drown
won't I?

Oh my mind
It's ill-defined,
hazey
it's left me severed
I'm sightless.
did the unknown hinder a
blind tragedy?
They tell me,
We can pretend for awhile
So i'll pour the sea in my head,
I'll make it full again.
but my mind will only be
under siege
it's a temporary fix
Like leaking my dreams with
matchsticks

can I even complicate the patterns
that I inhale?
such a strange feeling
as if you can't grasp your mind
when your psyche
is flooded
What is real? What is mine?
To what extent is detachment twisted
When you can no longer
reach
the surface ?

I see an oceanic void where
the only movements are
the vibration of my bones
not radiating in dance; they're
shaking,
shaking
in this abyss