Swimming In A Fish Bowl

Water drips down the walls of my house.

On the inside, and out.

The paint weeps and melts,

Forming a rubbery lump of folds and colour on the floor.

Two droplets are drawn together,

Forcing their way over the dust.

They cling and join to form a spot.

Two spots form a pool.

Then there is an ocean.

It consumes my house.

It fills every space, swallowing everything,

Yet leaving everything in its place.

All that is missing from this fish bowl is the treasure chest.

The bubbles stop and the liquid becomes solid.

The light azure has grown a dangerous dark.

Yet somehow it soothes,

As if this gelatinous blob is seeping into a deep burn.

Can one fathom the depth of the ocean?

A million fathoms of thought and profundity.

And water.

And air.

And life.

It steals the colour and light.

But gives so much back.

This is a random... thing?... that I wrote in about fifteen minutes. It's been a long time in the making though as it's been swimming in my head for a while, and it certainly has a lot of contributors. It's somewhat inspired by verses from Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here and The Rocket Summer's Do You Feel?, and my recent self-evaluation and experimentation of nothingness. I have no idea where my head is at.

Annnd I think I found a perfect picture for it.

Ethan..