Depths Of My Mind

Words feel foreign on my tongue,
as though they are a strange contraband
that is novel to my lips

I try and speak and instead taste apathy,
atrophy. I wither away
into a butterfly’s cocoon

The silk that surrounds me is
tauntingly thin.
I can just barely see the rise of the sun,
hear the song of a bird

I fold into myself, becoming
smaller and
smaller and
smaller
because
there is nowhere else to go

I am trapped in a labyrinth
with no beginning or end,
only middle

I try and speak.
Here, words flow freely

Words and phrases
surround me and uplift me.
They succumb to my touch,
and I mold them how I please

I begin to forget I have no way
of leaving the depths of my mind.

I am euphoric off of this absolute
freedom.

It is only when I run out of words
that the possibility of escape
will ever graze my thoughts