High and dry

 I really feel like I'm in a living tomb

Encased

Self-sealed, hermetically

Like a hermit

Waiting for what?

High tide?

For the river to rise and bring me new life

Just on the shore line

Lapping at life

Dipping my toes in

Wading in the shallows

Afraid to venture into the deep

To swim, push out and explore

Up here I'm high and dry 

Strung out on a washing line

Caught in a fishing net

In my own tackle

My own hooks and bait

I've caught myself

And got tangled up

I need to cut loose

Break free and just swim

Escape

There is nothing for me in these waters

No life or hope of interesting work

Maybe Bristol, if it's doesn't drive me berserk