What if…
I stop thinking and just write instead?
What if…
I numb the chaos with words
What if…
I am already numb
What if…
There is nothing left to write?
I guess I feel dizzy and I am not sure if I am spinning on an axis of my own free will. I don’t know how to stop the carousel. I feel sick and closing my eyes or counting my breaths just seems to make it worse. So I opened this page and thought I would write down my ring o’ roses, wondering if it will stop at the bottom of the deep blue sea, the moment we all fall down?
But who is falling? My legs won’t buckle. I want to fall. I want the beautiful abyss. But all I get is more spinning.
I didn’t say ‘faster’.
I didn’t say ‘more’.
I thought I said, ‘please stop’. I thought I said ‘I need to get off’. But my lips betrayed my consciousness, and apparently I roared ‘More! More! More!’
I’m screaming now. Is it pleasure or pain? Can you tell the difference? Can I? Maybe I like being dizzy? Maybe it’s a part of my existential kink. But that doesn’t make much sense to me either. Nothing does.
Dusk flashes into daybreak. Nightmares punctuate. Nothing illuminates. Vomit spews from the stench of my pores. I am a wreck.
But my mouth still screams ‘More! More! More!’
Or did we all simply mishear the call of the Raven?
What would stop me?
Dead?
What if…
I could be still
What if...
I could rest
What if...
Out beyond the fairground and intoxicating laughter of mechanical clowns in boxes
There is more?
I want to lay and rest and feel
Nothing
What if...
There’s a blanket of comfort deep in the forest of my ramblings
What if...
My bruises drew the map
What if...
My madness was the cure?
Maybe there are no answers, maybe there are only questions.
I still feel dizzy. But perhaps the writing in circles has at least slowed the pace of the spin.
What if...
I stop now
What if...
I just get off
What if...
I could have tapped the heels of my red shoes all this time
And stop thinking
And just
Be
-
Author:
sylviasearcher (
Offline) - Published: June 20th, 2021 02:29
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 36
Offline)
Comments3
A poets dilemma when the muse is asleep and the mind turns in on itself for a while whilst the pen is in hand.
And I wonder if it the dilemma that makes the poet or the Poet that makes the dilemma?
What if..... the most unanswerable question ever.
Andy
And so I spin until I’m dizzy instead!
Thanks for reading
an intriguing read, semi: diary entry in topic and tone
yet, also comes across like an artist digging deep
to extract that semblance of inspiration
they can glimpse, but not quite grasp completely..
an entertaining read, really liked your use of pacing
thanks for sharing
And thank you for reading and your kind words... I am a bit of a disclosure poet I guess. Not that I call myself a poet... writer of random words perhaps?
I, as a fellow 'scribbler'
can understand, your conundrum
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