The Center Does Not Hold
by Annie P.

today I felt the mask crumble.
the great poisonous store of
corrosive ashes begin to
spew out of my mouth and through my tears.
And finally, the apprehensive and neurotic tensions let go.

i let go of the numbing core
to admit I was human.
and feel again; vulnerable and sensitive.

too long I knew how the
sludge ate away at me.
silent insidious.

bit the night sky let me go.
unproud and fully capable-
almost reborn-
but still, the ornamented scars were there.

a great escapist,
I was--
betraying the ultimate trust.

just affirming the concrete,
life,
heaven and hell,
marble and mud.

just noticing the now.
all things,
as much as i made them
up (to be).

capturing the keen shifts of mood
and the sudden veering of direction.

that was all perspective,
like the reality of my time,
(the then, not enough time)
void of sensation.

the mask created fog
a certain haziness (core of consistency)
and low expectations
(we are all crucified by our own)

but it is all what i make of it.
action nullified, nerves paralyzed.
the colossal wave, sweeping tidal over me.
drowning, drowning.
it carried me down.

there was no integrating force other than that.
only the naked fear-
the urge of self preservation.