The snug status quo that I had ensconced myself in,
The shock-absorbing fluff that I had holed myself in,
The certainty that it afforded lasted just a while,
Had more than estranged me from reality, damn this gossamer globule’s guile.
Cocooned in this contraption, it’s difficult to wade through,
The treacherous, winding paths of life that I had for long eschewed.
Now I am stuck in goo, this spheroid won’t budge,
Down I sink, into this black hole of sludge.
My back has cramped, my hands itch,
My legs demand action, but my mind’s still bewitched.
It wants to believe that the lull will last,
Not understanding that the sinking submarine can no longer withstand the pressures past.
Should I slingshot myself out of this coat,
And thrust my fragile self onto the choppy waters as I boat,
Clumsily at first but much surer as time pass,
Or should I stay in this cozy impenetrable mass?
Maybe I should give it a try…Or should I not?
Alienman 