Floating
A displaced soul drifts lackadaisically on a lukewarm tide
Of drugged confusion
Eyes blind and ears plugged with her own bewildered ramblings
She does not know where she floats
Nor how she came to be there
Her mind is a murky haze
A miasma of amnesia born of overwhelming strife
She comprehends only the primal urgings of
Self preservation
The inebriated machinations of her heart & lungs
As they keep her obediently alive
Keep her coasting
Everything else is a fog
A shifting quicksilver illusion, swirling like clouds
Obscuring love & passion & rage
The islands of emotion she needs to reach
The bedrock of comprehension & crucial human instinct
Cruelly they elude her
And still she drifts
Limp spaghetti fingers grasping at straws
At bottles of cheap wine & the soothing firefly
Glow of cigarettes
Caustic chemicals that inject her with false animation
That spur her through the mists towards some kind of
Clarity
Until the cold dawn-spangled hands of sobriety drag
Her back again
A slap of reality right in the face
And yet again there she is
Drifting
A puny twig, swirling on the goliath currents
Of displacement and despair
Swallowed up by cold grey infinity
Copyright © Amy Van De Casteele | Year Posted 2009
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