Drowning Inside My Head

I sink below the surface of my own skull-
water filling every hollow,
saline and cold as regret.
My thoughts thrash against invisible walls,
ripples carving scars inside my temples.

I tase the iron of old sorrow on my tongue,
hear the shudder of my heart
like a ship breaking apart in a storm.
They say, "Hold on," as if I have hands to grip-
but my fingers slip through wet, collapsing corridors.

There's a moonlight glint in my veins,
a lure I can't reach,
a promise they whisper in my ear
while I drown in the clatter of memories-
the laughter that faded like wind through reeds,
the face I can't recall without trembling.

Bubbles rise from the gulf of my chest,
each one carrying a fragment of joy
I tried to anchor to the seabed of my mind.
They pop before I grasp them,
their sparkle dissolving into deeper black.

I press my palms against the glass of my consciousness,
watch my reflection blur and fracture-
a mosaic of broken light.
There is no shore here, only the current
pulling me further from everything I knew.

Even hope drifts away on currents I cannot chase,
a phantom buoy slipping
beneath the weight of all I've lost.
All they offer are words-
buoyant words that bob above me,
out of reach,
as I sink.