The Deep Is Not Empty

Sometimes,
one has to feel their way out:
lingering fingers over jagged stones,
rubbed raw and ragged, ground down to the
nubs.

Sometimes,
one has to fail their way out:
no epic crash of thunder...just blunder.
Look after the leap. Stutter as you speak.
(shudder)

Sometimes,
one has to flail all about:
a scream from me wouldn’t mean anything.
Exactly like frowning while drowning.
I tell myself this as the water fills my
mouth.

I mull over the dulled hand of a
sloppily-drawn, vaguely human, blur.
Is it here to help me? So moody and submerged.
No shock, underwater, everything looks blue

Reviews

[Onatah]

I love the imagery. It makes the reader feel like they're the one who's blind and not just the persona