My heart laid bare, Michael Sherrillo
I sit in darkness while the thousand-headed demon of doubt cackles as he circles my head. Pitchforks clenched in hoofed hand, my mind is pricked by its sharp and burning blades. Plagues of locust swarm into my heart, violating the tender cared crops of sea green tranquility. Raped and pillaged, these Elysian Fields are ravaged and razed into a scorched desert wasteland. I fall, into a pit without bottom, without end... the world fades to black as I lose myself with no direction but down. I feel dizzy; I feel weak; I feel lost. Is this my own creation? This monster, which plagues me, whose shadows keep my minds eyes from closing at night, whose whispers I hear echo in my ear? What will I see when I turn the final corner? My assailant? Myself? Nothing? These doubts, these haunting ghost of doom and despair, wailing in the empty halls and lonely towers of my unconscious, dare I listen to their midnight cry? Dare I heed the warning that may or may not be? Or do I cast off worry, fight off fear, and end this nagging hand of cowardice that tugs incessantly at my arm sleeve at its wrist and allow myself to honestly feel? Am I a coward of the heart? Have I been scared to deeply to open myself to another wound? Am I afraid because I see the chance of being hurt more than I ever knew? If only I knew why I cannot allow myself to fall... I'm tiered, and if I do it again, I want it to be the last time. No longer do I wish to struggle to float and swim only to sink and have the waves and tides toss me back upon the shores. I don't want to fight for nothing anymore. But I'm afraid to drown... so I stand not moving forward or back, ankle deep, looking out in hope and fear.