Swamp

My mind is a swamp.
The banks are quicksand.
The water is immoral and overcast.
The creatures that inhabit
Are the most vicious of their kind.

And everyday I spend in this swamp
I drown further into grime.

Every breath is a gulp of tainted water.
And every escape plan fails.
The quicksand, I am a quick sucker
For thinking I can beat it.

My. mind. is. a. swamp.
And Ive been tempted with purification.
But the threat of sunlight
And reflecting of blue skies to water
So undermines my mind of filth.

Ive seen those minds of
Beaches and lakes and flowing waters.
Their brightness of another world
Is detrimental to the darkness of mine.

Here, within the swamp of Loss
Loneliness
Hate
Resentment
Emptiness
And inadequacy.

I can be safe.
The swamp engulfs my breath.
The creatures, my creatures, my
Family.
They protect, so valiantly!, my swamp.

And the quicksand, perfectly surrounding my
Swamp.
And the reality of my quicksand is that
Any access to or from the swamp
Is readily denied.

I like my swamp surrounded by quicksand.
I want outsiders to find a wall that really
Isnt a wall.
So, tricky and set, my quicksand
Shows outsiders they are welcome.

Yet, this quicksand, my swamps army,
Is not one to be trusted.