Thursday, July 9, 2009

It's an awful, ever present sense of despair.
It manifests in the throat and the chest,
feels like drowning.
Lends itself to shuddering breath,
like the wind has just been knocked out of you.
Keeps eyes open late into the night,
minds endlessly reeling with regrets and apologies
and self-deluding, self-sustaining hopes.
And in the one moment when it's all taken as it as,
as a constant burden and {a hundred, thousand} flights of fancy,
the static settled in the temples increases;
jaws lock and eyes well,
and it is so honestly not a way of life to ever be wished on anyone.

© Copyright 2009 Abby Almon

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