dragged by my throat down the road of time.
dirt grinds my clinging hands,
mind and body atrophy,
disuse.
i am watched by another self.
envy,
fortune and passion,
out of reach.
contempt,
a life fulfilled urinates upon the dusty road,
liquid gold,
fine clean clothes,
productivity adoration immortality.
self loathing.
immobilizing depression breeds under my skin,
a shadow flickers in the corner of my eye,
i strain to turn toward the road ahead,
i feel death’s gaze upon me.
i dry eyes cry.
fading away,
willow-the-wisp in the wind,
dust on a string.
heavy thumping in my core,
my heart remembers more.
there was a time.
standing in a high place,
upon a rubicon,
lightning strikes,
electricity courses through my veins,
neurons dance and spark,
invincibility and power and creativity are become me.
tornadoes of sensation rage through my dreams.
i run,
a universe burns inside my brain,
the suffering of the real real and of the real imagined echoes down my legs,
the earth cracks under foot,
my body shakes as the world glides through me.
i stand in a crowded room,
distorted by the contours of the mind.
dear those here,
we drink blood one from another,
hopes and fears,
condensed and congealed in my mouth,
staring into the eyes of an old friend,
i discover a tear,
i gift once given now returned from once a forgotten year.
laughing at a bad day.
existence a elaborate joke,
my reflection upon it absurd.
disparate memories beam down from the clouds.
a melody ensues,
the song of myself.
sensory input imbued with emotion.
a foot crunching in the snow at sunrise.
phantom kisses long after lips have touched.
sinking guts accompanying playground politics.
falling.
fragments of me-ness stack upon one another,
a castle in the sky attempts to contain you,
precarious as you are.
desires form lofty towers stretching out into orbit.
convictions stain glass windows between your internal world the strangeness beyond.
habits and quirks pattern and bond your stonework frame.
traversing the labyrinth within reminds you.
i am in despair.
i have always been in despair,
my isolation is always infinite.
my purpose is always nonexistent.
lost,
alone,
ill-equipped,
an empty reflection,
i am that what am i.
and yet,
better still to be empty and aware than to be empty and asleep,
to sleep is to die,
for an i,
for my i,
i would rather despair,
i would rather despair.
and yet,
and yet,
in that moment,
high on that low,
i am connected.
i am sorrow,
deep eternal.
i am loneliness,
solipsistic pity.
i am the pain of the soul,
existential agony.
i am yours and yours alone,
i am the internal struggle from which substance arises,
i am the measure by which you test your humanity.
despair becomes a sublime force,
a force of nature that creates and destroys intelligence.
it may kill you,
it may alter you.
i doubt,
i own my uncertainty.
i feel,
i channel my hurt.
i universalize my despair in the hope that doing so may authenticate my humanity.
i embrace my despair,
deep and dark and dear.
i take to my feet and continue down the dusty road,
reigns in hand rather than around my neck.
for now.
Tags: despair, existential, poetry
