All of This

Messed up again...

Another bad night.

"Why do I keep doing this?"

I ask her.

“Because.... of all of this”

she says, gesturing

with both hands

over her chest.

She refers, of course,

to the swirling

bulbous tension

running rampant

through my chest.

The ever present

humming, buzzing

of anxious fear

from the tips

of my toes

to the top

of my head.

Pulling me forward,

down.

Curling me over,

around this turbulent

unsettled space.

Stealing my breath,

leaving me restless,

wanting,

thirsty for air?

water?

No, something.

Something to pull

me out,

pull me back

to a place

more bearable.

All of this in an instant.

Then a tiny whisper,

a casual quiet thought,

a gentle nudge to action.

The something slides down,

numbing my throat,

numbing my soul.

Relief, for just a moment.

Less than a moment.

again, again, again.

until disgust,

close-throated fullness,

bloated numbness,

descends upon me.

Resist?

It is no more

possible to stop

than to tell

the tidal wave no,

than to stand in the flooded river

and not give an inch.

Instead I live each day

swept along by

dark waves of suffering,

desperately wanting out,

yet terrified of the

stillness of shore.