Tuesday, 2 April 2013

VIII) An excerpt.

6th July 2012

















The world is viscous.
Cloying and choking it fills my lungs, I am drowning... the surface is further than my eyes can see, I am too far down and there are no lights down here, I am just threshing around in the infinite dark.
Every movement is met with resistance, I am swimming against the current,
my body is perpetually tired, wearied and sore,
Pushing against this substance that will not yield.
I am trapped in a flesh prison, my bones are my bars... but who am I?
Am I my aching heart that beats out of synch?
Am I the dark red blood that flows through these veins and pours readily from the gashes I make?
Am I the lungs that struggle to fill with air and forever feel cheated of enough?
Or am I these eyes that are frozen beneath numb lids, in these paralysed sockets, shrouded in a film of grey?
Perhaps I lie in the mass of flesh, caged inside my cranial cavity? a mere 2.6 pounds give or take, humming with activity. What part is missing that causes it to malfunction so? how can something so light to hold and dull to look at, have so much power over who I am?
I feel like a bottle stoppered tight, emotions of all colours and creeds, battling to get out, warring with each other, a bloody mess inside. But if I uncork them, I would lose it all, I would pour out on the pavement, one big frothy mess, I would evaporate in the sun trickle down the drains and the very last remnants of me, would wash away in the next rains.
How much force can one bottle contain? how much more can I cram down inside before it shatters into a million pieces? beyond any semblance of repair.
The glass feels thin and fragile, my bottle, like I, is not very strong, it is not built to withstand the test of time.
Will I be just another name whispered into the wind? Another casualty in lifes war on humankind? An unmarked grave lost in time? or will this water recede, and the the sun come out? will kind hands lift my tired body and help me to stand?
Will I dig my toes into the earth and refuse to give up my spot in this world?

Enough pressure can turn coal into diamonds, I hope for my sake, the same applies for me.

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