Flotsam
Hidden from the world in a cold, dry box
forgotten until the sullen morning breaks.
Tumbling from the prison into a deluge;
submerged in coco brown liquid.
I flounder without a paddle,
desperate to swim against the tide.
The slurry stirs with my efforts,
threatening a murky oblivion.
The bistre water rises fast,
filling my lungs with globs of mahogany
and my mind pops
as sanity escapes back to the cold, dry box.
Laura Taylor
Fri 11th Feb 2011 10:29
Wish I hadn't read this on a hangover - feel a bit sick now :(
;)