Keeper

My grievous, treacherous state of mind

sunken in an untagged bottle.

Mine are the two hands that touch it,keep it

careful with the vaccum? It's rather funny.

But  very cautious, grabby and clingy

I hide it when it can't be handled, but never HAND OVER.

This untagged bottle is everything I can hold close

a vital need in a gruesome night

how would I let it be touched by you?

a descretion of rules of a sugarcoated  immaterial, irrelavant life

a gloom that can't be cut through and

it leaks in the most vicious, gruesome nights, this bottle

it's a canvas for most of the violent events, life.

It knows and bears certain weight.

A little peek in this pit and I'm lost,

an interrupted incident, but it soaks me.

for whatever time but it does.

and I am aware that here,

grief is subservient to confusion

here, even the sadness is suffocated.

A confused, tangled, mesmerized metaphor

struggling to be uncorcked once again,this bottle

amongst the various bottles of wine, perfumes, liquour

the smells that don't fade but fool

fool you, for everything that would never be

But how long would you go on without unseeing?

Without looking at and falling in the pit,again.

So everytime I come back for a quick peek,

a quick dive, a quick dip and on the surface

there, I am found by the void, my mind.

Looking closely, saving it, trapping it

before anyone touches it,

Looking closely, saving me, trapping me

before anyone touches 

My grievous, treacherous state of mind

sunken in an untagged bottle.