I am stuck --
Sinking in these shifting sands.
Something so simple, somehow sinful,
The oozing death swallowing my feet -- legs, my being, my
Sense of self.
I am stuck --
Sinking in this quicksand.
Wishing it were quick, but
Slowly I am being submerged, waiting -- pausing,
The fly stuck on a sticky strip.
I am stuck --
The ground lied to me,
It looked solid, stable, seemingly static.
I stopped to watch nature -- watch the world turn, but
Now a new prisoner stuck -- sinking slowly.
I am stuck --
What seemed as slight downward pressure, has
Surely become an anvil upon my shoulders.
There are helping hands -- branches and vines, will they lie too?
If I look and reach up, can I pull myself out?
Creator
- Michael Barchetti
- Pittsburgh, PA, United States
- Hi I'm Mike Barchetti. I love the unique and the strange. I am opinionated, and love to discuss things. Humor is the spice of life, because nothing is ever off limits. With that being said, I am a very sarcastic and vulgar person. Besides my love of discourse, storytelling is something that I live for, and whenever the two meet, I am in my element. I'm very outgoing, and like to meet new people, so give me a shout!
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