I swing too high:
control is lost
to something pulling me up
spinning my head and gut, forcing me
I need to come down carefully
so that I can control the vomit
of my ugly truths.
But instead, I’m brought down like an
and I spew the words,
I am empty.
No more swing, just unsettled earth.
Frozen, I feel it creeping towards me.
I look! Deceit is its eyes.
While rigid, I turn to sludge,
I slip downward like spilled tar.
It is black and ugly and smells of death.
Despite my resistance, I fail.
I resign myself to my truth;
I am eye to eye with the abyss- again.
It carries me gently (it lies!) and I am swallowed into familiar and wicked darkness.