Crawled inside my head
for a few days
daze
bad marajiuana, bad
Not my eyes, not my ears,
not my hands,
legs walking but feel like stilts
world closed around me, sure of death
never felt death so strongly
So I sit here, not as me
Someone drag me back into myself!
Of course, this will pass, and I will come back
When I tire of tormenting myself
I will dock with myself for a while longer
But those fucking tides of thought
Forver dragging at my anchor
Those fucking slimy, salty, waves of shit
Corroding my teather to a life I
love so dearly
Too dearly, perhaps
- no ship is permanent
...or port for that matter
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