A lake
Running deep
A line stretched
To its core.
What is it that makes me so
Unsure?

A hand
In a trembling fit
Reaches towards a heaven,
May I be free forevermore.

A threatening warmth in my centre
Drowns my soul,
Permanently stuck in a winter
It’s futile to wait
For the passing of the cold
So I am stuck
In my own
Quicksand.
Stuck
Unable to understand
The magnitude of it all
And so I fall
And a certain numbness takes over me,
A certain bewilderment
Because I have been seized and
I do not see.

what is happening

has the earth fallen
off its rotation
leaning on the edge
of oblivion

has the sun died
burnt out
like an exhausted
light bulb

has the moon imploded
crumbled
fallen to dust

I realize not

and yet

the world seems askew
out of sync

I can't find an answer
it's out of reach
beyond an eternity

my mind can't fathom
can't comprehend

my thoughts are confined
within this realm

and so
it continues

the earth spins
the sun shines
the moon exists

and I wonder

So.

Here I stand,
alone,
a tall, awkward pole in the vast,
echoing desolation that used to be
us.

And I wonder,
Bewildered,
what the **** just happened.

And the answer rings like a bell -
clear in the silence:

I was not enough.

We do our extensive research
But yet, we still may not come up with the right solution
In a state of bewilderment
With lots of frustration and confusion
We feel incomplete
Because, we are often left in darkness
Fear and anxiety sadly appear
Some of us would rather keep in silence

The road darkens quickly;
it turns and sways
and tapers off into an unseeable zenith.
The gravel cracks
and rolls underfoot.

This road peels skin off of knees. This road
rips palms to shreds

but I've traversed it many times;
I can recall each boulder and each
protruding limb.
I nestle between the crags and

I bathe in the starlit puddles. The water is
murky and littered
with bottles, with pens, with Barbie dolls.
It is lukewarm.
I revel in my shivering, pruning skin.

I walked along its path
yesterday.
I closed my eyes but
I listened well.
Unholy silence.

I lifted my foot and triumphed a
broken branch that always exists. I could run
this road blinded and gagged.

I dipped my toe in a puddle. Time
wouldn't let me
bathe.

Darkness fell beyond my eyelids and chilled
these fragile shrouds.
I leapt over a crag. It has grown
since I've been gone.
I fell into its depths. It isn't a crag at all:
it is the end.

This road has broken off and it
dangles children's toys
off a precipice.
I am still falling. The wind lashes at my eyes
and dries out my tongue.

I am blinded and I am gagged, but
I do not know this road at all.

Visiting my parents I learned
that I am being played,  a game
in which I am board and piece and ****** weapon.
When a picture of me sulky toddler evokes “You always hated me”
roots uncurl hibernated spores stored
through my salad days and youthful spring.
Broach the soil as I ****, ankles grabbed,
leg-locked planted firm reaching.
What do you think grows down there? Digging has
turned up rotted fibers, matted hairs and husks.