the world seems made of quicksand and i am slowly drowning

not so slowly

no way to survive this slow race to inescapable doom

sinking so slowly at my first it was barely perceivable

the heaviness of the weights around my ankles as i deep dive to marianas trench of depression

newtonian liquids that refuse to obey physics wraps around me like a second skin

suffocating on dry land

i’m drowning and i can’t breathe

i’m sinking and i can’t get out

feeling the constriction in my chest, seeing the spots before my eyes, desperation and realization the same feeling of helpless floundering

of giving up

i need a life preserver

a helping hand

a lifeline thrown


no one hears my wet cries

amniotic nightmares and lungs filled with liquid

it happens

but all i see is the steadily rising water line, mold on the walls as the dry land opens beneath my feet, fighting but all i do is sink

right at the finish line, at the verge of crawling back the land slips from weakened fingers, defeat snatched from the face of hope

i’m not waving i’m drowning

it’s not a greeting, it’s a plea for help

i’m not waving

i’ve drowned

6 thoughts on “drowning

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