I'm weeding,
cutting these emotions
from the roots beneath.
I'm heated
while the sun is burning me.
Indigo, where do I go?
We go
as far as we can
from the low.
The low is your ghost
awaiting the host.
Wading from what's
waiting below.
Storm reigns
to take away our pain.
We drown and die
in the name
of the higher place.
Overdosing, overthinking.
I'm sinking
and you're winking
on my way downward.