whisper upon whisper,
grain upon grain.
they pile up, until there is no space to breathe
not a pocket of air,
only the damp black.
hot. humid. cramping and stamping
extinguishing.
and then.
it crushes,
you're trapped like a bee on a wing
life has you now.
in its hold
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
whisper upon whisper,
grain upon grain.
they pile up, until there is no space to breathe
not a pocket of air,
only the damp black.
hot. humid. cramping and stamping
extinguishing.
and then.
it crushes,
you're trapped like a bee on a wing
life has you now.
in its hold
god i just feel so stuck, so frozen in this state. there's nothing i can do about it except wait it out, see how everything pans out in the end. and everything i hate is waiting. is not doing. this is too much // too little
