I do not want to be calmed.

I want the storm to continue surging in my head,
spilling surf from my eyes while tremors shake my shoulders.

I crave a continuation of this pure energy, more than I’ve experienced in months.

Let me pulse with the fury and despair simultaneously,
allow this tempestuous tantrum to expand infinitely into the night and beyond,
where rosy fingers announce the dreaded dawn.

But all too soon the quaking subsides and the sobs give way to gaping silence,
leaving behind an emptied crater too deep to fill with equally empty consolations.

So the chasm compounds.

The body submits at last to exhaustion,
and the mind is temporarily muted.