And rose.
And fell.
Once more.
Something at the corner of my eye
is thrusting its bony fingers
into the gaping cracks of my life,
pushing its stained fingers
into the empty spaces where my life should be,
where all my principles and goals,
my reason for being
should be safely bedded down.
I rose, I fell, I rose again, calmly this time.
Something’s trying to force itself on me,
just like I used to try to force myself
on the world and everyone else.
Something jams its fingers, probing
deep into my chest.
My chest rises and falls, rises and falls,
slowly, gently. It’s almost tomorrow,
but somehow still yesterday.
I rose.
And fell.
Once more.
(from Exercises in Unreality, Agàpe Publications, 2002)
S.C. Flynn 