my brain retreats.
to avoid the inevitable hopelessness
that seeps through each beginning of each beginning of each day.
I try to lever myself
I try to pry myself
into the day,
but mostly I
the pull of normalcy in favor of my comfortable black murk.
On some days,
the sun reaches in and grabs me by the neck.
It's a best friend who refuses
to watch me wallow when there is
My legs are weighted by two-ton memories and
by thick magnetic mud.
I slog with the sun pulling my neck my arm my heart toward Outside.
If I can navigate this holy map,
make it to my front door,
dragged along, then
a surfeit of,
a path appear
and grow exponentially into a widening view
replaces the grey fizz fuzz buzz in my head.
And makes me feel.
The doorway is my magical portal
but it has a combination lock.