I Am Filled Empty

I need desperately to write, I am filling up. Soon the overflow will pour and flood into the parts of me that are now just to weak to try and maintain the weathered walls. If hope floats then its all the rest that sinks. Like oil in water my internal rot pools at the bottom where it becomes thick and inescapable. Tiny bubbles rise to the surface, marking the place where I have drowned within myself. The last bits of hope I had left now drifting away. I filled until I was empty, unable to release. Now I am full of emptiness that is filled with the hope, that there may still be hope.