fight or flight.

i wish i knew how to react
and not betray my loathsomeness.

a fish gasps for oxygen when it's all around,
just because it's not in the form it's used to.

things become clear and refined when i think of this from time to time

and that all castles made of sand are washed away eventually,
the castles, and the prisons. all washed away by hugeness and routine.

the great, and the small.
the good, and the bad.

in time, all is dust.
the echoes of words fade in darkness,
and that's okay.

our songs will all be silenced.
what of it?
go on singing.