Our
lividity
at
the breadth of what the mind can do to sway us
into
thinking
that
our verse of immortality is ever finished.
Done.
Lividity
that
creeps upon our faces
as
we feign to understand the words “Depression”
“Addiction”
“Sorrow”
“Phone”
How
do you understand a pain that burrows
itself
among the ricocheting words in constant rhythm
between
everyday, yesterday, tomorrow.
No
ease of speech can slow them
or
freeze them
or
unwind the coils of desperate tow
spewing
comedy and error
hoping
to deflate
the
pangs of creativity that build in solid measure rising falling
talking briskly jumping walking sliding balking images arising until
one can barely close their eyes to think.
Imagine
expanding
your soul until your breath can only creak a meager whisper
while
all the while the shouting never stops
brimming
stripping
your mind until all that’s left is torture.
Statistics are overflowing
with
melancholy madness that no person on this earth can try to hide from
or
ease the blame-
Not
with money
or
welfare
or
shame.
Not
with children
or
college
or
Alcohol
or
fame.
Or
dope.
I
am livid.
That
we turn our cheeks and calibrate our hearing
so
we won’t upset the conscience, vibrate the norm,
unmask
the very guilt that plagues our presence.
Lividity
that
won’t allow the funds to save the masses
cure
our heartache
end
the drone
shave
our bones to activate the inner core of marrow that they spoke of
They
who grew too weary from the ricochet-
Addiction-
The
constant ring of sorrow-
Mesmerizing
energy-
Alone.
Sometimes
the only way out is through it
Sometimes
it comes
Sometimes
it goes
Sometimes
the light of fervor is extinguished
And
vibrates the norm
And
makes us wonder:
“How
am I to bear the brunt of lonely?”
“Who
am I to capture what I seek?”
Don’t
let your mind sway back and forth the notion
That
you are worthless, and weak.
Finished?
Done?
Your
verse of immortality is singing…
Let
it speak.
-Christy Garrison Guise
