I know this is a real experience
But in my mind it is an entire poem
You're an adult now trying to distance yourself from the horrors around you
But your escapism leads you right back to the terrors of your childhood
You are running from the frying pan into the fire
That is to say that the very things that haunt you is what you run toward to in the end
This weed tastes like the lake I nearly drowned in as a kid
And I went back the next summer and the water was calm
Now my lungs full of smoke lead me down into the green
Lead me to the dark where the catfish had eyes like gold
I'm older and wiser and know how to swim
But the kid in the water's still terrified
Death doesn't dream
Death kisses with tongue
And it is waiting at the bottom
In the mud
