Venice and Violins

In this hole my nails are peeling back from all the times I’ve tried to climb.

Existence is so futile when you’re living in the dark.

But I’m trapped and I can’t seem to find my way out of your heart.

Reduced to bleeding fingertips wrapped in the memories of failed attempts at escapism.

I once was an astounding escape artist.

But these walls have not only been barricaded and laced with barbwire, but coated in layers of hell and hot wax.

This situation isn’t looking too bright for me, but wait, what’s this, is that some light I see? Just two more layers of skin.

The fragrance of summer rain fills me and I feel a spot on my cheek.

Oh shit.

I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.

That smell was merely you swallowing some more victims.

All this salt is really tearing into my wounds.

And that spot I felt on my cheek.

Was really just your foot pushing me back down into the shallows.