my brain retreats.
I want
I want
to avoid the inevitable hopelessness
unenviable dread
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
Resist
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
Outside waiting.
My legs are weighted by two-ton memories and
slowed
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,
glimmers of
a path appear
and grow exponentially into a widening view
of
this bird
this tree
this weed
this flower
this shadow.
This air
replaces the grey fizz fuzz buzz in my head.
And makes me feel.
Alive.
Outside.
The doorway is my magical portal
but it has a combination lock.
I fumble.
