We stretch our bones, as we reach for a branch,
as we gasp for air in the sinking sands.
The enveloping of the nothingness is comforting,
blindly comforting, as we walk through your ugly swamp you call paradise lost.
It's cold down here but we're alive and unafraid to lose it all,
and things things will fall apart. That's all we really know.
In sinking sands on murky nights
know we're the eyes
peering through ghost
from shivering depths
to sanguine heights.