Choke

Dovonna Meloche | 

Some nights start like this,

thoughts too mean, too loud.

Their oppressive tendrils

a vice holding you down.

 

The hands are your own.

 

Inhale,

 

Replace the doubt with mud,

muffle the thoughts with fog.

With this fleeting bliss.

One that sets your throat on fire.

 

Scorching yourself from the inside out.

 

Exhale.

 

The heady feeling seeps into muscles

like a poisonous friend’s embrace.

Wraps itself around the mind and heart,

tears and disconnects from the body.

 

Pretending that it helps.

 

Inhale,

 

The familiar numbness

like floating on the surface of a lake.

Put the world on mute,

mute yourself.

 

You don’t notice the comfortable cage you’ve built.

 

Exhale.

 

Fingers prickle, eyes burn.

Warm face, dry mouth.

Distract from the chaos,

sink into the distorted calm,

 

Until you drown.

 

Inhale,

 

Choke—

Sputter, and hack,

lungs afire.

Chest aching from the absence of self.

A cavern you fill with sticky, acrid smoke.

 

Exhale.

 

And do it all over again.