Locked up inside a tiny little box.
I cannot feel my lungs anymore.
Tears are like marks of paint,
They don't dry, just glisten.
They remain as the world tightens.
The earth seems to fall away,
The sky makes no sense
And the air is wet.
Flies dance around our heads,
Leeches crawl on the skin.
Thoughts are breathless and shared.
The light cannot be changed.
It burns through the mind.
I need the scene to move,
The darkness covers the remains.
Emptiness drains my head,
Flesh flushed boiling hot.
Soft pillows cushion me,
I sink deep within.
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