What is a low and why does it act like my shadow?
with every nonchalant step my feet are endlessly drawn back by the constant thump of my rapid heartbeat.
if i am so out of breath, then why is it that i still feel like i have done nothing?
i need my space, no, i need a place to fly to
in my dreams
when i don't have to face the agonizing trickle coming from the leak in the ceiling
one could call that same trickle a waterfall
barbaric as it slams itself against these four walls, against the ceiling fan, against my arms
but i am not scared
no,
I've seen this all before
the same familiar roar
the water is tempered by the sea monster who creaks in the floors
constantly growling that it wants "more"
more of what?
i don't think i remember
but i do remember when that hole was filled with cobwebs instead
vacant but yet, not dead
come back to me my old friend
the 8-legged creator, my only lending hand
talented with your spins and weaves, never worrying who to please
and oh, my old friend,
your talent gave me so much peace when i rested my head
what has become of you?
were you washed away in the flood, blown away with the wind?
or did that abrasive sea monster take you out only to fill your intricate ties with a darker foam?
salt water, i believe it is
the water none can thrive on.
oh friend, i hope you're okay,
i think of you more and more each coming day
and each time my shadow creeps up behind me and opens the trapdoor,
i savor the time i could look up to see your love spun out in the same broken home.