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rocks in my chest anchor me down, i'm in too deep as it is
(i'm drowning)
too many nights spent wading and my feet are unfamiliar with the shore
(i tried but i can't float)
skies with no sun is what greets me when i gaze up
(crack me open and end it)
i submerge me in the sea of red
(i long to be half past dead)
YOU ARE READING
past oblivion.
Poetry"what can i really say?" used to be my words, when i didn't know as much. when i got older, i responded to myself. "everything." now, i realize that i can use my breath to speak on everything in existence, from dust on jupiter to the depths of hell...
