Stuck In Self
I am choking on the
Ambience of the dull day as
It wraps its arms around my torso
The wind portends of something to come
Horrible, maybe, joyful, maybe
The unknowns of life seep into me
The sacred act of sleeping and eating
The regret before anything has been
Done worth regretting
Standing in the fen as my boots
Sink into the mud, I catch
One last glimpse of the willow tree
I cannot move in my shell
I pound my fists against the walls of
Myself, but I will not budge
The timbre of familiar voices on the edge of my hearing
It is amusing, it is a distraction
I am grasping desperately