Sludge

I feel you, before I see you.

The light fades.
A heaviness permeates the air around me, too thick to breathe.
Anxiety ignites inside my soul.
You cast a long shadow,
as I begin to count minutes.

It takes hours,
and sometimes days,
to free myself of the black ooze with which you encase yourself;
the vileness that you fling, violently,
this way and that,
without conscience,
void of awareness,
despite my pleas.
You are deafened, by your own pain.

And, I slide.
No matter, the reinforcements,
the oft-repeated self-recriminations,
the desperate vows.
I slide into your abyss until I am covered by your noxious goo;
blinding,
binding,
bleeding,
burning,
brightly.

I boil over,
adding my excrement to yours,
until all exits are blocked;
spoiled by our filth.

And, all I can think of is getting out.

© Copyright 2007-2009 Stacye Carroll