I am battered.
Out of air.
I feel weak,
floating ether nothingness.
It's tiring. It's so terribly draining, I worry about closing my eyes.
What will I see when I open them again?
The blackness of the back of my eyelids sheds assurance. Needlessly.
The fault of misdirection.
And I just want you to hold me.
I am skin too, muscles too, fibers of energy worth existing too.
Rosy movements etched against the universal skyline.
And who has the energy to ever wonder why
I curse the way I do, I breathe the way I do.
I'm just so.
Just so delicately placed without restrictions
to invade my immediate surroundings
I will feel alive again.
In regards to jumping ship
to swim myself again.
The sea of my own beautiful being
I will become.
(A poem, because it's all I can muster from myself. And it's been too long since I posted. I'm sorry it's all I have, but it's all I have. Thank you.)