The alarm clock is a lighthouse beam
Cutting through the dark, but I can’t be seen
I’m anchored to the mattress 50 leagues below
Where the air is thick and the current slow
My phone is buzzing on the bedside table
Vibrating violently, but I’m not able
To reach the surface to break the skin
The tide rose up while I was sleeping in

And I’m breathing water heavy and gray
Watching the ceiling float further away
It’s quiet down here in the deep end of the room
Wrapped in the weight of this water log gloom
I open my mouth to say I’m not okay
But only bubbles come out
And they float away

My friends are walking on the surface tension
Living their lives in a different dimension
I see their shadows rippling overhead
Distorted shapes from the floor of my bed
I try to swim up
I try to kick
But the gravity’s heavy and the silence is thick
It’s not that I want to sink like a stone
It’s just hard to tread water when you’re doing it alone
Pressure building in the back of my eyes
A liquid crushing a silent cap size
Blue light, blue noise, blue walls, blue lungs
The taste of the salt on the tip of my tongue

And I’m breathing water, heavy and gray
Watching the ceiling fold further away
It’s quiet down here in the deep end of the room
Wrapped in the weight of this water log bloom
I open my mouth to say I’m not okay
But only bubbles come out and they float away