Tuesday 26 February 2019

OCD (5)


The air feels grey and thick
I wade, weighed down
By warped versions of reality 
That push me to my knees
And I sink.

I can't think my way out.


C. LJ Ireton 2019.

By -

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

The Songs

I spent one summer at the piano, in the dark - only a single slant of light could ever get in through that low window, leaning yellow dust m...

Search This Blog