the muck of life

the insanity
of it all is mud.
the mud of blood
of thought,
hip high,
of legs
heavy as lead.
the brain in a muddled
fog
of doubt
and worry.
we're in mud.
stuck
in the this endless
swamp
of wet trees
snake vines.
this muck
of indecision.
not a branch to grab.
not an arm or hand
within reach
to get us out.
we need to slug through
this mire,
and get to dry
land.
and soon.