Here is a poem written freestyle at a time when I was struggling immensely. Again this was in the early days and I had thought myself to be merely exhausted due to the amount of big things that had been happening that year – including the brain surgery that led to my depression.
Straining forward, forward
Pulling hard against the tide of inertia
pulling me back, and back to some place
as I slice through the gelatinous mass
of my existence in which I swim
Never moving anywhere.
Kick.
Stroke.
Kick.
Stroke.
Kick.
Stroke.
Breathe.
Breathing the same air.
Suffocating as the oxygen thins.
Less to breathe.
More of the same.
Kick.
Stroke.
Kick.
Stroke.
Kick.
Stroke.
Breathe the same –
More of less to breathe.
Suffocating and dying of Inertia.
livingwithablackdog 