Melancholy undercurrents trapping
me within this stream of repressive
                                        desperation.

On the surface I was flowing like
         nothing was misconstrued.
but on the river bed the turbulence
was stripping me clean.

Undercurrents of adjective references,
           that were slowly polishing
my need to let myself be swallowed.

Never come up for air again..

My riverbed is the silence,
   but I don't want to slumber..
             I'm going to swim,

even though the shoreline keeps
                                  moving away.