mismatched woods

[sll]

There exists an incomplete owl,making a nest,living in my fucked up consciousness,And its telling me:stop playing cat and mouse.this is not life or how its supposed to be."but I'm that fragile,simply an old soul out to dry," I sigh.but it keeps telling me:stop picking bones, stop pissing stones,start erasing the messes you're drowning in"I have a purpose down here. Though.""Something is pulling my pinky. Though.""There has to be beauty in the deep."but the owl keeps repeating:stop playing cat and mouse.start erasing the messes you're covered in"But there has to be beauty in the deep.""Though. Though. Though. Though.""I can see the edge of the universe, here in the deep.""And sure enough, a force will take me,like that of wind, like that of ocean waves,like that of sand and stone, green blue and grey.""It's drawing me in, like a tornado, and I'm dust.With it, I can shrivel into irregular rust.""This is though. This is though.""There is a life down here, in the deep.Its hidden beneath all this darkness,so let me sleep, let me sleep."and the owl starts to disappear,whispering into my ear:you've gone off the edge of sanityyou've erased yourself completely.you're suffering for your suffering.But I close my eyes and get back to my dream,lost between the sounds and sights of the deep, of the deep.