You

The days
constantly filling up
like and endless rain
it pours
oh it pours

the rushing tides
of life
ripping us apart from
grounds we once stood



being plunged
dunked
gasping for the air
Crushed
from our lungs

Our hands
cut through our watery coffins
tearing apart the air
Hoping and Reaching

Seeking out anything at all
a hand, a branch,
a ladder, hope,
a friend, even the
bottom of the rung.

Those we know
attempt a grab
but with lives busier than
their own

half tries at help
with the best
of any attention
but more often
on their side.

and in the instance
rushed away
the rip tides of life
tearing us apart

Sitting here
with nothing; a blank screen
looking as if dusk
was rendered weakened
by my appearance

but my mind
left emptied
thunder in the distance
my home gone
and flooded

- the Q man