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Looking Through Bleach by Mehlbruck (critique requested)
Wheezing lungs, bleeding ears,
Pleading hands all out of reach.
Faces blurred and skewed in grey,
Looking through a jar of bleach.
The yellow sun shares its hopeful warmth,
Its weary smile begging to stay.
A million eyes close and turn,
Delving back into blissful grey.
Ever have a nightmare that you made it through...then wish to go back into?
I like to incorporate my fears, desires, and nightmares a lot into my work, whether it be prose or screenplays. While pondering on a film idea late one night, this scene formed in my head and the poem came out of nowhere. Jotted it down, and here it is.
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