deepundergroundpoetry.com

Cogitatus

how long  
do I have -
before your  
glazed eyes
greet me  
when I pause
to look up
from my page?
 
each time  
I think to myself
 
~who else is here?~
 
I’ve spilled every  
last drop
of the battle
I suit up for
on any given  
Tuesday;
what remains  
before I run out
of ways to say
I’m not alright?
 
~I won’t ever be alright~
 
but as long as
you’re willing
to watch this  
fight to the death,
I’m willing
to put on  
a show
 
when my throat
becomes scratchy,
full of that  
darkness
that can’t get
quite comfortable  
here
 
~not anymore~
 
then I’ll come,
and put my face
to the door,
and I’ll open it wide,
spilling my guts
to you
 
until nothing is left
but the last fight
and the soft light  
on the other side
of this battlefield  
 
Author's Note
#catharsis should be a theme 💜
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