The Blackness of my Blackness are the terrible answers to the questions I ask myself. It is the bottom of the hole that I dig for myself hoping for an answer beneath the crust, blindly dig until I find myself surrounded only by the heavy earth of my mind. I stay here, not because I want to but because if I try to climb I will only make more dirt fall upon me. The only way to go is down. The harder I dig the more tired I become. Inevitably, I must give up and lay myself upon the ground, I press my cheek against the rough and granulated soil and I wish for sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment