The Pull

There was a pull.

The strongest pull I had ever felt

drew me in and swallowed me whole

a whirlwind of emotion and intent

a vortex of rushing thoughts and manic passion

drew me from my toes to my tonsils,

stretched my bones from city to sea

traced my fingertips

this beating throbbing organ

brought me into the centre of a storm

Then spat me out onto the Earth

Crawling back into the dirt

Dusting off my knees and searching for

Reserves

Of Emotion and intent.

 

Lost at sea

with no end in sight

Made my plea

with no respite

felt fear

and unease

Accept this plight.

Caress your wounds and sigh

For Sorrow’s might.

Misery endures

Misery adores

Brokenness

thrives off loneliness

thirsts for hopelessness

and feasts on recurrence

of uncertain words.

 

Self-sabotage slips into her sheets

And into her days

Like the fog which layers her eyes

And paints the skies grey

marks her arms with lines

of promise

Childhood innocence

The rose-coloured rhythm of revelry

Relentless joy running along tracks of old

Spinning of wheels and words and rumour and rhyme

To find one another,

grow into each other –

to be lost to the time

Outstretched as your arms are

fragile and reaching

for safety

and soft feeling

Words which

weigh

you

down

with their gentle meaning.

Depleting

your energy

Giving rise to psychotic paranoia.

Anxious paralysis at dawn.

Panic attacks at noon.

Supper

and slumber

and stupor

with the moon.

Hazy adoration

calling out from the water’s edge

Only to be turned away from the Sun and

driven into the shadows.

 

This

beating

throbbing

organ

is alive once more

yawns through tired lungs

yearns for a stillness,

so pure.

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