I sit in the glow of the monitor,
dredging out my soul and my mind
of the layers of sediment
that have deposited by the stream of the week.
On this day, the road changed, and,
out of a time where things appeared bright
and the sun had just started to shine through the clouds,
the stink of life became as garlic
and the sun fell from it’s place in the heavens.
Crafting words has kept my head above the muck–
but now, I am feeling for a foothold with futility
in the quicksand;
as it has ahold of my heart–
dragging me under, the more I fight.