Free Fall

I don't know why i always manage to hurt myself on nights like this 
The pain lacks thought and doubt perhaps that's it
(and people don't think i'm a massachist)
it's dull and aching, sharp and tight
it lets me fall asleep at night
 
how do i fall so frequently?
like painting, strokes of crimson
steal my breath
even as i try to leave the line between numb and emotionally dead
 
just please explain to me
how words and touch seem linked by need
how striking stark innocent blood leaves not my wrists 
only my heart
 
sometimes it's all i can do to run towards touch
an anchor
a gateway 
keeping me from tripping across the lines 
 
no fear, just pain, joy, love, heart ripping grief
most of it not mine but always with that piece of me that longs to live extremes
scream for the joy of life and song,
cut to the quick of my being with sharpest knife of pain.
 
too bad i'm not there.
it only drowns me on late nights with too much thought and not enough emotion
i start going numb
so stop it from spreading
this is how
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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Devonshire Avatar
February 12, 2009 at 7:41 PM
Satya, your poem captured my attention. All artists have suffered, but have also experienced joy and love. I wish you the latter! Good work. Carolyn
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