The Hollow Trap

I’m in this place. It’s darkness familiar.

There are no walls accompanying this feeling of encasement.

There is no ceiling looming too closely overhead, causing my head and neck to bend under the pressure of its presence.

It isn’t like floating, more so inanimate suspension.

I don’t have a sense of things crumbling down around me, as much as building up in front of me.

That dreamlike torture; the feeling of feet stuck in mud, reality stuck in reverie, enables the frustration of helplessness brewing beneath.

Exhaustion laced with hyper panic, sleepy shakiness lacking rest.

There is the sound of no sound; the din of bubbles, only murmurs bouncing back at me.

I’m in this place. It’s darkness familiar.

There are no walls accompanying this feeling of encasement.

There is no ceiling looming too closely overhead, causing my head and neck to bend under the pressure of its presence.

It isn’t like floating, more so inanimate suspension.

I don’t have a sense of things crumbling down around me, as much as building up in front of me.

That dreamlike torture; the feeling of feet stuck in the mud, reality stuck in reverie, enables the frustration of helplessness brewing beneath.

Exhaustion laced with hyper panic, sleepy shakiness lacking rest.

There is the sound of no sound; the din of bubbles, only murmurs bouncing back at me.