I feel it coming on again...

The weight comes first
My concrete cloak
Slowly draped upon me
by the gentle hands of another
The skill of a pick pocket
but it gives
instead of taking

Like the oncoming of
A cold or flu
You feel its presence
but deny it
with all your will
Believing that
maybe by somehow
refusing to acknowledge
its existence
will inhibit its power
and the ability to exist

But no matter
how much I turn away
and forever swim
in my eternal lake
of denial
No matter
the compartments I create
with walls
Oh so high!
Or the tomb carved
deep within the soil
A myriad of twists and turns
creating a maze of dungeons
where it's
boxed up
sealed tight
and forever buried away
with the
Ark of the Covenant

There is no denying it
There is no escaping it

Instead,
there is only
the refusal to admit it
and the refusal to accept it

A game I play
at times
Testing the limits
and true measure
of my
mental stability

"Don't ask questions
You don't want answers to"
and thus
my lips are sealed shut
my eyes closed
and my fingers plug my ears


And it's Here

inside my head

the empty void

and a limitless universe...


Here

I choose to stay

and where to live


Or maybe I've been here all along