ships wrecked
concepts
disregardable formats and homeostasis
point to where your love lies.
don't tell me i cannot,
i only desire more to crush your expectations beneath the weight of my tap tap tapping keys.
don't tell me i should not,
i will go through my life in silence listening to your meaningless vowels, expressed only in an attempt to stop your head from aching.
hour nine of discontentment:
would you trade your inspiration for a grin?
what do you think of the gasoline and writers block taking form in my dispose?
correct me if i'm wrong but i think i love you.

Some people sit and watch and say nothing at all, and others say too much and miss everything and everyone around them.

In a way, a persons silence seems to give a looming of power the them over others. On the other hand, they are outspoken and have no control of any given situation. Is there gray area between the two? Can you be silent without being mysterious? And can you be silent without being disregarded?

Some people may find need to fill silence with sound, with their own voice. In my own experience, the people who do this tend to be overtly confident, but lacking in charisma. These people build themselves up past the point of admirable. They drive themselves off the cliff of confidence and into the sea of cockiness. Can one be an everspinning record without putting themselves on a pedestal?

Where is the inbetween? Can there be a constand buzz behind silence or is there only disregardable ringing and deafening quiet?

I’ve been to the Marianas Trench.
Many times, in fact.
I know- it sounds exotic and adventurous
but it’s not all it’s cracked up to be

My first visit to the trench caught me completely off guard.
There I was, just swimming along;
Unified with the bustling marine community-
Waves gently guiding me through the warm ocean waters.

And then I felt the pull- a slight tug at first
superficially annoying, albeit disregardable with some moderate effort.
But then the tug turned into a tow.
And the tow a yank.
And the yank an insurmountable drag
And before I could call out for help
I plummeted
into the bitter blackness of the trench.
36 thousand and 70 feet down, to be exact.

The first thing you need to know about the trench is its suffocating darkness.
An obsidian world so completely devoid of light...
you question if the sun ever actually existed.
In absolute darkness your senses become obscured.
There is no direction.
There is no up.
There is no escape.
And just when you think see a glimmer of hope pulling you into the light
You’re almost eaten by an Angler fish.

The trench is also cold.
Not the cryogenic insta-freeze kind of cold you might imagine
But a subtler cold, that envelops you-
A weighted blanket you just can’t escape.
It leaves your feelings just shy of numb,
mocking you so deeply with bleak awareness
that you’ll begin to envy Walt Disney.

But perhaps the worst thing about the trench is the pressure.
15 thousand 700 and 50 pounds per square inch.
The weight of the world is literally on your shoulders.
And no matter how hard you try
you just can’t seem to muster the spirit
to break free of the crushing embrace-
A shrouded anchor forbidding your liberation
From the grim canyon

And while those who have never been to the trench might say
“Just swim up.”
or
“You could leave if you really wanted to.”
They can never understand the profound yearning for escape.

I want to ascend.
More than anything.
But it’s not     my  choice
All I can do is wait
Until the trench releases me
And I slowly float toward the surface
My hope increasing with each new glint of sunlight.

And when I finally emerge and take my first breath...
My senses return
And the temperate waves welcome me with open arms
As I begin to comprehend my freedom,
Which at once seemed impossible.
But now I know
I’m going to be ok