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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I awoke in front of the mirror again. Unsure if I was still alive. All I could see was the past pouring out in a prismatic scream from dilated pupils. Colors bounced off the mirror and fed into the linen closet behind me where I kept my towels and dirty laundry in a hamper on the floor of my procrastinating twirl. This schedule is making me dizzy. Waking up. Deciding to carry on. Arguing with myself; my sentiment. Discerning if it’s real. If it’s really what I want. ~ It’s been over a decade since I dropped myself onto that plain. Since I fought with myself, amid Angels and Demons. Laughed at my infinitesimal impact on the vastness of a reality that could very well just be a dream, within another dream. I’ve tortured myself over the notions. Whether or not I had any obligation to fulfill. Knowing full well it was the gravity that planted my feet, on this spinning ball. So dizzy. ~ I spoke to my ancestors in the wood grain of a hospital Door. The Devil in the ever-changing face of a stranger I met at a party. She was Him. She was everyone’s sickness. The worst parts of me. But I never spoke to God. No matter how much I cried out for him. I stood under a light bulb. Stared straight into it, for hours. Swaying slightly, back and forth- Like an egg at the bottom of a boiling pot. Begging for Him to tell me that it was okay to be alive. Silence. But, I did have a deep, and steadfast awareness. A deep seeded notion that no matter how much I wanted it. Felt like I had to. I shouldn’t kill myself. No matter how much I felt like I had to- save myself, the world from the oncoming avalanche of torment. Maybe that is how He speaks. Maybe it was all a test. Maybe I just took too much God damn Acid. But, the colors still come- with the thoughts. I’m trapped in a kaleidoscopic nightmare that the Religious might call Spiritual Warfare. I just call it Guilt. Guilt and Uncertainty. Because I was too afraid. Or maybe I had just enough nerve- clarity. To not gouge out my own eyes and pop the reward center of my brain that I thought was the restart button. ~ The mirror is cracked now. My fist is bloody. I’m screaming. But no one is coming. They’ve given up. They’re afraid- So am I. The colors aren’t here. Just the reflection of the man who was once a boy who threw himself into the wrong realm and still doesn’t know the way back. -James Kelley 2018
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