Ivy

This plane of existence is tethered in veiny ivy,
Wrapped up in vines of jade design,
Strangling it while in turn holding it up,
The world in perpetual struggle,
Enduring strangulation,

I thought to climb them to the top,
Foolish Jack and a dire beanstalk,
To look out across the cosmos,
To see if there was escape somewhere out there,
A metaphysical cure for this infestation,

But the thorns claw at my hands,
A million little bayonets defending the crown,
The status quo,
Mustering pain and blood for each inch taken,
Punishing my hands for daring to seek change,

As the atmosphere grows sparse,
There are still malms of viridian barbs above,
Even the very heavens are tied by these green fingers,
Bone-weary my grasp dares to let free,
Maybe there is no way out of this sphere,

I do not know.