quagmire paradox

we float
bodies numb
on this
sluggish stream
of ice cold
fingers trailing
unable to grasp
at the darting
just beneath
the surface
and we know
whatever those
half frozen
beams are
they are the
only thing
in this vast
hell of half
focused delusions
that make any sense
even of we have
no comprehension
of what they are
we float
at the precipice
of sweet oblivion
drifting in a
false freedom
that exacerbates
the confinement
a perfect trap
in which the
only true escape
is an end to
a quagmire paradox
at the brink
of coherence
and acceptance


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s