Over

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Over

Venado Isand, Costa Rica

 

From bone to meat, from sigh to grind

Strive against tendencies to fall and slip; slide and dive; then tumble- legs askew, head snaps

Over, over, and over; over, over, and over; snowball somersault down a mountainside

Speeding rollercoasters bursting off track, hurtling high and arcing down to the crushing depths of the sea

Air strangled, no breath; just salt and gushing filling death

 

Resigning myself to the path of never-more

Rush, rush; rush, rush without end; penetrating the sanctity of my form like so many others

Please come, take me to the dark; take me to the place where I am no more

Ashes, ashes; memories alone; turn them to stone, to ashes and stone

Blind me and silence my fears with the beat of the blood; rush, rush, rushing into the sea,

To the purple-black cold welcoming pool; to the end of all that has been me

Stop and start; repeat the same unenlightening, beguiling patterns; colors of loss and oppressive heat; heart fails and dust swirling around and above and underneath

Forward I crawl and backward I lunge; is it my innermost undeniable eventuality?

Escape, relief, decline? Yes, please, yes! No, but I can’t.

I am a self-made victim; somehow bliss accompanies the straining, gurgling crushing of my soul

I long for better, more; but I can’t swim, much less soar. Any more, any more.

Toss, turn, twirl, moan

One step leads to another; down the stairs, down and down;

Trudging and tripping till I smell the perfumed petals

 

Soft, pastel, perfumed petals drift up and down on a breeze of regrets and almost

Landing on the smoothness of my transport, box of finality and entombment

I am a sad seeker, a joyful sufferer; addict to tears and rending emotionality

I let go, I fell, my sight obscured. I fell over as the whoosh of the wind whistled me away

 

This was written in June 2013. I have battled with intense depression and anxiety throughout my life and at this time I was in a particularly desperate place where I daily contemplated my own annihilation. The thoughts were all consuming and I felt that I was in great danger of acting on my fantasies. Along with other means, writing this made me feel like I began to take some of the power away from my thoughts by shaping them in the secure space of the page.    

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2 responses »

  1. It takes strength to share something this dark with the world. So glad you’re willing to be courageous and share your experience so that others can feel like they aren’t alone.

    Liked by 1 person

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