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Burgeoning

January 1st, 2012 No comments

Oh no…I can’t stop it this time. I feel the flood coming. I’m desperately trying to cling onto my being, convincing myself that I am here – that I exist.

Oh no…I can’t stop it this time. I feel the flood coming. I feel my heart drumming. Gonna bash the guitar sideways in the middle of this strumming.

Oh no…I can’t stop the beat; feel my pulse – it’s the unstoppable freak.

Red, purple, blue; the shades of my face. Don’t implode, don’t explode, man, save your grace.

A flicker here, a flicker there; the crackling of synapses in my stomach. I’ll push it down with the mild medication, bottle the frustration and take the unwanted vacation. God damn, you know I perform best without preparation.

Oh no…I can’t stop it this time. Throw myself into a wall. Curl up into a corner and ball. If I didn’t know any better I’d say I imagined it was fall.

I’ll breathe fire a mile high in the sky till the eyeballs pop out of my head and roll around on the ground.

I’ll breathe this fire a mile high.

I’ll breathe this fire a mile high.

You know I am going to cry.

Here comes the flood.

Here comes the avalanche.

Here comes the tidal wave.

You know I’ll breathe this fire a mile high into that night sky.

You know I can’t help but cry.

I’ll breathe this fire a mile high.

Matthew Polkinghorne

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