I am choking
on the heaviness of the air,
the metallic taste of this storm
building, and I can sense it getting closer
electricity humming under my skin
and I know that it will break
and the voices in my head will do battle
with the voices of the dead and gone, carried on the wind,
and the waves will batter and drown my body
drag it down to the blissful, lightless silence,
and the wind will whip my branches
back and forth, bending, close to breaking
and I'll tumble though the stormy air
a leaf torn away from its tree
beyond control, uncatchable, dancing a frantic dance
but not really dancing, no,
swept along by the elements,
a marionette with its strings ****** by an epileptic puppetmaster,
tugging, pulling, tearing apart,
in pieces swirling, slowing, falling, landing
scattered over the ground in tiny scraps,
dispersing, fading away,
gone.