Taken from this place

I’m lifted somewhere high

Where no-one can see me

With my face stretched

Beyond recognition

Into a screaming rage.

Defunct, immobile and drunk

On the pleasure of pain.

The cut of endorphins, and agitants;

The multitudes within

Fighting against the tide

Of beingness that consumes me now.

I wasn’t going to do this,

I wasn’t going to be this person

But I cannot resist the pull of

Change that courses through me,

That wells within me like

A soul full of bicarbonate aggression.

Uncontrolled, uncontrollable,

Undignified; lashed to the mast

Of a ship off course;

Traversing the needle sharpness

Of the reef that spans the

Distance between me and myself.

No anchor to secure me,

No pale to soothe me, to numb

The bite of the ropes,

Or tame the winds

That tear at my flesh

With salt and sand,

Ash and dismissal.

I wait, wait for the tide to turn,

For the storm to pass

For the burn of the rage

To release its grip.

To return to wholeness.

Inaccurate, incongruent

But familiar wholeness.



3 thoughts on “The Unwitting Sailor

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