From under this grey
I feel cold
Cold yet comforted
Comforted because I know that from
Under this heavy grey
Is an openness.
An openness that will expose
Me; my only possession
To the entire world
A world unbeknown to such a creature
A creature of comfort.
This heavy grey
This heavy and cold grey
It is a burden on my being
Bearing down on me below the surface
Amongst the anemone
Amongst the crustaceans
Haven't you heard of Personal Space?
My limbs are free
They flail haphazardly
Hopelessly
Straining to break the crystal surface above
Momentarily achieving such a feat but for what, huh?
I never asked for cold extremities
That's why I buy gloves.
I can raise my head
Only just slightly off the pillow of sand beneath it
It's a strain on my spine
It's a strain on my mind
Lay it back down
Down on the sand
(unfinished.)
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