I grasp at the edges of consciousness
Slipping off the sharp cut lines
Falling back

The marks on my hands
Matching the desire to pull myself back up again
To grab hold again
Of these threads
Leading through my own labyrinth

the maddening rivers
Hurl me against the cold hard rocks surrounding my mind

I am my own prisoner
My own pursuer
But i never feel
that I am myself
that I am my own