Voices

That nagging voice is back again
telling me to pluck my brainstem
like a freshly picked dandelion

It’s been a few days, maybe weeks of it —
I can’t really tell, it always starts quiet
more like a polite suggestion
than the boorish demands made later

I’m exhausted from it, eyes blurry
as the voice presses my occipital lobe
threatening cortical blindness

Sunny days dwindle to dreary dark
to the point where I don’t know
where I am or where I’ve been

There’s no desire for a permanent solution
to a temporary problem, but man
am I sick of this all

I’d sleep more
if not for the nagging voice
keeping me up at night

But I will not give up my light
until it’s meant to go out
years from now when the wick
is old, tired, and full of stories

I will not give in to its pleas or trickery
of “peaceful” premature sleep that leaves
behind loved ones and unfinished business

To that nagging voice’s demands:
I refuse
I refuse
I refuse

In Darkness

Everywhere I go, it watches in darkness, hiding in alleys and dimly lit cul-de-sacs. It preys upon my humanity, knowing eventually I will hit crisis as we all do. And when I do, it lumbers toward me.

I try to keep a tough exterior as it slowly wraps its claws around me. My stoicism only adds to the ever-increasing weight. I feel like I’m sinking in a suit of armor in the middle of the Bermuda triangle.

Do I cry, scream, burst into a fit of rage, or maybe all of the above? As I slowly drown, I feel myself dragged deeper into the void. Everything starts to go hazy as my thoughts run in lopsided circles and I can feel my body begin to shut down even though my mind’s still on a marathon and I’m not sure what to do at this point and I’m not sure when it will stop and I hope it will end soon and I keep telling myself to snap out of it but I just can’t and I feel powerless to even move even though I know I should reach out and then –

It’s gone.

It’s scurried back into its room as quickly as it arrived. I’m not even sure what’s in there anymore; The light went out some time ago, and I’m too scared to go in there alone. I do what I can to keep that room locked up. I get out of the house, I get lost in my hobbies, hang out with friends, and anything else that will keep it at bay.
I’ve been told that hiring a professional is the only way to go at this point, and, while I’ve been putting it off, I’m finally having someone come around the house to check it out soon.

That’s still some time away, so for now I’ll sit on the edge of trepidation, facing towards a future of new tools and locks. And when it comes again, I know I won’t go without a fight.