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.