like a fetus in my womb
like a parasite in my stomach
like a heartbeat in my chest
it lives in the dark corners of my mind
and the quiet whispers of my breath
the darkness resides in this heart
in this mind
in these lungs and this blood
just under the surface
blurred like skin underwater
but solid like soil under toes
it slithers through my veins
with its quiet lethality
and it's sure to strike
no matter how much poison you drink
no matter how many chemicals you take
it is a part of you that will not go away
you beat it back like an out of control fire
and you drown it in distraction and warmth
but darkness can live off of anything
and once you give it a place between your ribs
it is there forever
and you must find a way to fight it off,
to hold it back,
to talk yourself down,
because while its inky blackness is so comforting
and so easy to slip into
it is a false savior
the true savior in this battle
is the quiet moments with your back to the carpet
starring up at the turning ceiling fan
and waiting for the urge to pass
because it always does
you just have to wait for it
YOU ARE READING
rage and recovery
Short Storya testament to the rocky road between rage and recovery and the thought that the two might not be so different after all
