November 12, 2002

• Here I am *again* -- Your neighborhood begger -- reaching out for help this time....
  

  On that downward spirial into oblivion
  On that roller coaster that never stops--
  so unrelenting, so unforgiving, so non-stopping.
  

  There are no breaks. There are no breaks to pull,
  no attentend to push the stop button, but I spiral on,
  gaining speed, spirialing downward, further and further
  into the abyss of darkness.
  

  I want to get off this ride, at least come back up
  into the light, into the sun, into the warmth.
  

  So cold is the darkness, so alone and dark
  so much pain, so much torture, so much inner turmoil.
  

  When does this ride go back up? When do I hit the pully
  chain that pulls the cart back up? Why can't I break free
  of the bars that hold me captive in this seat so that I could
  at least climb back out of this spirialed hole? If I did,
  would the cart then turn on me with gnashing teeth and
  run over me? Would it eat me alive and destroy me all
  together then?
  

  Do I have a real choice expect to ride this out? Others
  seem to think I do. I wish I thought the same. I wish I
  were that strong to just say, "Yes, I have that choice!"
  and steer this cart back up into the light, but I am
  spirialing, spirialing, uncontrolablably into the dark abyss
  with no rope to pull myself out.
  

  I don't like this ride, someone save me for I seem to feel
  hopeless right now to save myself.
  

  I look upward and open my mouth wide so the pills fall in
  and I swallow hard. I swallow all the pills that fall in
  and there are many. I swallow with blind faith that they are
  going to pull this rocket ride back up... back towards the top...
  back towards the light. Will it? If so, when?
  

  I hear water below me. Will this cart float? I hope so. I'm starting to crash into the water... into the dark and stormy sea. Its dark and the waves toss my little cart to and fro carelessly like a feather in the wind as they crash over me and my now little wooden boat, sinking me one minute then lifting my up and crashing me back down, just as the roller coaster did, but worse in some ways for now I fear drowning.
  

  I look around and there are no points of light that I can see.
  No moon,
  No stars,
  No light anywhere with the exception of the streaks of lightening
  flasking across the ink-black sky as thunder booms in my ears.
  

  The waves rise me up and crash me down as I hold on to either side
  of the little wooden boat for dear life. I'm not ready to give up, so I hold on, hoping to see light somewhere, somehow. Hoping, searching,
  for direction.
  

  Instead of raining water, medications rain down on me. I welcome them. I know I need them and they are a welcomed relief because I
  know they are going to help me find the light again. I know they are going to help me navigate the stormy sea to the light, even though
  this darkness is overwhelming me right now, I'm scared and I feel lost, I know I can't lose hope, even though I am close to doing that right now. I have to hold on to that, no matter how tired I am, I know I have to hold on to it. It is my life line and I know that.
  

  I have to look for the lighthouse, but know not what direction to turn, I feel I am going in circles, and perhaps I am, but hopefully, I will straighten out and stay my course, until then, I hope words of encouragement will befall my ears to help me pail the water from my little boat to help me keep from sinking.
  

  • 11:05 am
  • 1 Comment