False hope. 2020

I breathe in.

I hold the thoughts in.

I breathe out.

Nothing but air.

My head is heavy and

my lungs are empty.

I breathe in.

My head is swimming.

I breathe out.

I am drowning.

My head is heavy

underwater

My lead head is

S

   I

     N

        K

          I

            N

                G

I claw to chop my head

                                    /OFF.

I float up to the top

stumble to land.

grasp at every grass to hand.

I sit down amongst the flowers

and we sit and chat for years & hours.

Till from my neck should appear,

Emerald sprout, a shoot, green spear

My flower friends guide me through,

and tell me just what to do.

I water myself with dew from the grass,

Tend to my weeds, and find a new path.

My leafy steps, one by one,

soft and pillowy, continue till dawn.

Until my head gets heavy again,

With thoughts of the water,

Thoughts of the death

Musings of self slaughter.

My head is suddenly rotten with thoughts,

I grasp at my neck and my stem I knot.

But the rot has spread too far down this time,

My thoughts have reached the end of their line,

They lay in my feet, weighing me down,

Each weigh a tonne, from green to brown.

I plod to the water, with heavy lead steps

And walk towards whatever comes next.

(2020)