Stuck In Self

I am choking on the

Ambience of the dull day as

It wraps its arms around my torso


The wind portends of something to come

Horrible, maybe, joyful, maybe

The unknowns of life seep into me


The sacred act of sleeping and eating

The regret before anything has been

Done worth regretting


Standing in the fen as my boots

Sink into the mud, I catch

One last glimpse of the willow tree


I cannot move in my shell

I pound my fists against the walls of

Myself, but I will not budge


The timbre of familiar voices on the edge of my hearing

It is amusing, it is a distraction

I am grasping desperately


This poem is about: 


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