Echoes In The Abyss

spiral into an abyss

crawling up to lows and leaves

to be dostoevsky's diaries

or kafka's letters picturesque

crumbled corners of plath's journal

or the wrinkly paper boats

of discarded songs and sonnets

crawl into bed

glare into the void at night

wake up in the morning

grey hue daylight

the thing about greys

is that they aren't sad

but the thing about greys

is they're blue at the core

i chase fireflies like they fill a void

and run through pages like they mend a crack

i flip through channels like it lugs escape

and i sleep through everything like it works as they say

nothing changed, to square one, we're back

i dwell behind crammed words

where each word is a sigh

the songs, a storm

but in this labyrinth

i find reform

i lie in my words and lie to them

i think of the skies to drown too low

i have questions, but do i wanna know?

for i despise the hues

the crinkles and blues

like a ghost in the mist

sometimes i'd rather sway

in the realm of those shadows

i always stray

at the end of the day

we scream unwind

for whatever it's worth

always the same

it's showtime again

an endless refrain.