They begin as clean smooth lines
Beautifully etched along the surface
Then twist and turn as a slow rumble
Starts to rise behind the shadows
Before taking on a new rhythm beneath
The dense earth and its compelling movements
There isn’t enough time to adjust and
Move into a comfortable position
There is no time and there is no inclination
The only thing that seems to have a heartbeat
Is your innate ability to grow into these walls
To blend into the thick cavity housed inside
Your mind but you can’t be too sure about your soul
The lines are moving faster than your thoughts now
Rabid zig-zag criss-cross thick lines furrowing deep
Snaking their way across the landscape of your being
The one you try so hard to protect by encasing it
With a shell hardened by fear and doubt
And just enough misgiving to help you plough through
It’s a state of frenzy now with things juggled in the air
But the idea is to be lulled into a state of numbness
So you succeed for weeks and months and even years
Everything turns to nothing and the dreams of the past
Now lie banished into the outside world and you stay
Curled up inside your self-carved cave of captivity
The one you’re so proud of and inhabit with abandon
Until one day when you accidentally bite your lip and taste
The blood that wasn’t meant to flow or reveal itself
Yet now it gushes vengefully through your hardened veins
It’s all you can do to forbid it from taking on a life of
its own
So you start to crawl your way out guided by the sliver of light
At the end of, yes what else could it be but the proverbial tunnel?
You begin to feel everything you’re supposed to and then
some
Like slow and deliberate pin pricks puncturing your skin
The world outside and its sidekicks crack open your
exterior
But it’s too soon and everything is too bright, harsh and alive
You don’t fit anymore and all the spaces surrounding you
Are ones that you’d rather rent out now
There is something to be said about being numb
With its comforting continuous state of consistency
And gentle unchanging plateau that feels like home
But feeling is a rocky road paved with open wounds
That bleed and ooze and throw you off keel before
The scabs and the scar tissue make an appearance
You have a choice then, to dash back into the cave
That may or may not still exist in its entirety
Or precariously trek down that slippery road into
A land of sunshine and smooth white walls
That may or may not keep up to all its promises.
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