by Michelle Seyner16 Sep 2019
On the days I dread the most
the whole world coagulates
to a M.C. Escher-esque drawing
with a vaguely threatening tone:
a million shades of blackened grey
batter my senses and my brain
and everything around me
has its life and colour drained...
only never-ending staircases,
some of them up-side-down,
and I might as well start walking
so I can't get rooted to the ground...
there's no wrong way to travel
in this hellish looking maze
because there's never a way out -
not that I was going somewhere, anyways...
On the days I dread the most,
breathing seems to be a life-sentence
for a crime I was never officially charged with
and I doubt I ever committed.
16 September 2019.