This chest is no more than a shallow love pit. There are steep, steep worries at the front of my mind. Avalanches of fears tumble down dark slopes, only to land directly on top of me, with no sign of easing pressure. My ears pop pop pop and I am climbing higher, but feeling lower...
Swerve... Collide, no, swerve again.
Unpredictable lifestyles are my least favourite. Surprise! Panic attack. My shallow love pit aches.
Let me rest, oh please, just let me sleep... Although I am afraid of what tomorrow might bring; bruises, bumps, memories, fun... Terrifyingly unpredictable, to say the least... So let me rest, oh please, oh please. Literally begging, whilst on my knees.
Unfortunate tidal waves of confusion add to the melodrama and I wish to let myself drown. Would anyone help me? There is no saviour at the bottom of the ocean, nor the bottom of a bottle, but please, please, let me drown... Because even drowning sounds better than living this insomnia of a life.
I had always been content with simply floating around, but now that you are here, everything feels different... So let me sink to the bottom of a bottle. Let me rest at the bottom of the ocean. Let me go all the way through life at the bottom, the bottom of anything... For I know that I was not made to make it to the top.
Shoot me with a shot of ***** and drown me with a lot of drink... I do not need your pity, I only need to sink. Don't let me down, just let me drown...
I've had too much time to think.
I was skiing last week and wanted to write something using the idea of steep slopes and avalanches and stuff, at the same time as writing about fear and surrendering to obsessive thoughts...
