bobfallon

As Best As It Gits

Abnormally I would sit down on the ground

wherever I was standing

when that drained to the marrow feeling rushed

as a gusher through out all my veins and arteries

swished away all my unexpanded energy as I wound down

as if a wand and an evil wish were somehow involved, I cowered

to take one more step lest I step through that door that closes on forever,

my scalp wrinkled solid with tension,

my temples asked to be excused, offered

to explode or try and hold on,

the impression of a pressure put on my eyeballs

forcing them to tilt inward and cross,

a forced crossing forcing me to look past my own nose

seeing both diagonal views at once,

I have to squeeze my eyes closed tight

at night, as tight as I can stand it until it all starts

to fade into an unwaken situation.