tarred and feathered

as tar heavy burdened cut short in flight adrift like a rock one can not move sinking sinking if it seeps in this is where it ends my eyes go blind silently I be*come inside the exterior wasted holding my breath breath is done for me I always wanna cry sometimes I still do but most often I let time carry me swept along while I function only as a matter of formality like molasses it seems all that happens in front of me until it loses its grip and I breathe on my own again loving god a bit more  

~•~

a beautiful milieu