The Quicksand

The Quicksand 

 

You'll not to breathe, cannot overthink your mind to be weaker by the minute long, your spirit and soul is completed as mellow, every single bone of their bodies were shattered and pain, the love the passion the beauty will fade away so easily and well done beforehand, the muscles would be weakest, you'd sank down all the way through, the sands will be piled up and up constantly over those and these heads right there, this Is your grave this Is your cemetery, this Is your death inside out, this Is your cremation, this Is your hunger of death, this Is your thirst of death, you cannot think about this world comes to end, this Is your suicide note right through many brains to restore, that's how you got the humongous quicksand near your fingertips till the top and bottom every time since, that's life, the whole world is like quicksand to them 

 

Written by

Michael James Brindley

8-4-17