The Floor

its one of those nights looking at the clock, each hour passing slow two, then three sleepless, uncomfortable sounds ringing in my head, echoing spasms and negative chorus the floor will swallow me whole plunging me down blindfolding me raw, twisting madly to the center lost in an undertow of cold and darkness my foot wrapped in the vines of hell dragging me further and further into this pit into myself weighted down by impossible force sinking cut loose by warmth, by touch I see light above me, but far from reach Clawing to the surface, Fighting for the light Hope my eyes are open, set free from subconscious prison cautiously rising, daring to trust the unknown space I pray your warmth will keep the floor solid Freedom, stability, safety As I get up The floor is whole For now I leave the room, Knowing that soon I will have to return And have to fight for the warmth again