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.
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