A constant falling,
flailing like dead weight
through the madness.
Grabbing blindly
at the world around me,
but it shatters into
shards of glass.
Sleeping and waking
are indiscernible,
a nose dive devoid
of simple clarity.
The ground gets closer
with each passing day,
waiting to catch my bones,
waiting to swallow me whole.
—Lucy Quin
