Turned off the gravity to lessen the weight of my shadows.
But did that ever work, or was the melt down what follows.
Trying to focus on anything other than me,
Maybe that made it easier when it was I who undid me.

You can live in a dispassionate, destructive state,
You can keep adding worries and doubts piling up your plate,
Darkness falls like an avalanche moving at an exponential rate,
Its not 1 into 2 but 1 into 3 then 3 into 9,
Then when every part of your persona is taken apart by its design.

Who is left and who am I?
What is left when the birds won't fly.
Who will care when the clock strikes 12,
When the day is over and your down on yourself.

When the world has had it's pound of flesh but still wants more.
The fatigue is suffocating expanding from my core,
It fills me up until it leaks like tar from my pores,
Muddles my mind twisting 1 thing into a 1000 thoughts.

The panic speaks
eloquently and persistently,
telling me that I need a new filter
by which to drink in, to inhale
the good
and like an extreme diver, hold it in
while exploring the dark places.

You see,
the panic we feel on the surface
only serves to take us down,
while it denies us the means of rising again.

But if I can learn to pause,
to take in the good,
the wholesome, the nutritional,
then I can ready myself
to face the dark
and, having done so,
I will find the light again.