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[jazzygrape]

stuck in a shelter made of false materials
there's no front door
there's no windows
it's dark
it's cold
bloody scratch marks on the walls
desperate carvings
unfocused
unfocused
the smell of rotting flesh
the death of an old friend
waiting for light
waiting
oxygen is hard to come by
soaked in sweat
and unconsciously you say to yourself
is this where i belong?
is this really where i was supposed to end up
shadows of a ghost haunt the night
and plead with you to find the door
resurrect yourself from this container