And, this is....revised

I tripped on roots
on life

They rose
and grasped my ankles
like a vice

I can't shake it

As I fell
a cloud of self-delusions
covered me

So blind, I am
to what is in my face

I cannot form the words

too deep,
the canyon grows

And, I, within a wished-for
drunken stupor,
lie drowning

in an oceanic world
I dare not call
my "own"