Toxic Thought Syndrome

Poetry/Re-Blog

No spiral but the sacred Spiral. – Only Fragments

Once you’re in free-fall it’s too late.

Traffic whizzes by in miniature

below, oblivious to my predicament

as I catch myself out

on a ledge of my own making.

Beneath my feet ancient concrete crumbles,

cascading into invisibility.

Don’t look down, I warn.

But of course, I do.

Self-soothe your way out of this one, why don’t you?

I laugh, plummeting toward the asphalt.

You can probably imagine what happens next.

(Spoiler alert: none of my problems

get solved.) In fact, I catch myself

a cold, the common kind I suppose,

of my own making like the ledge.

I haven’t been sick in years,

but it’s inevitable. My body simply intervenes.

Enough!

She finally snaps,

We’re taking a couple days off.

Before the symptoms set in it’s 2:00 a.m.

Dear, stubborn body secure

in a cloud of comfort –

a shroud of comforters,

my crumbling thoughts cascade into invisibility.

And I myself arrive home again

to the place where all journeys end

and begin.

In the oceanic trench of slumber

I know peace and loving arms around me.

I recognize them, these familiar spirits,

gentle voices lulling me awake.

Calm yourself, child.

It was only a bad dream.

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The colorful, whimsical drawings here are a great way to help talk yourself off a metaphorical ledge:

#2687

Photo by Jake Ingle

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