i woke up choking —
blindly trudging
through short,
temperamental breaths
‘i know i can’t count on,’
tip-toeing; trying to
take control —
tripping —
getting swept up
into the current of
the next swath of safety —
a promise of sanctuary? harmony?
a warm swell filling me whole —
feeling like home: a deep
breath, finally! until
suddenly —
slipping —
my swaddling
is cut short with a
sting
so clinical
im left gasping —
my mouth gaping
in awe and in horror;
wondering how something
inside me could be
so cynical.
im alone, now,
hollow and still
yearning for security —
wishing i could soak up the
sweet, sun-dried nectar
that has gone
stale and
left in its
place a cavity —
an empty cavity
‘i know i can count on.’
my only certainty
is cyclical.
/
im alone, now,
again,
and i cant breathe.
