Buried

I can't do this anymore, this feeling of the wrong place, fitting myself into a coffin and crawling underground. I'm tapping at the lid, frantically ringing the bell, but no one in this whole damn town has a shovel. My home is in the blue sky, underneath the fishbowl, feeling like a speck of dust so far away from anything, but so close to the infinite, wrapped around providence, staking everything I have on getting out from underneath the earth where they put my bones. Crushed by confusion and the madness that ensues when you lose love and find it again within a two week period, rattling my cage bars and wishing I could see stars, nobody can hear my voice, it just won't carry far enough.