just saying...

[seaofzen]

i.
the wicked weight of it, the nameless thing
that clings in the ether around my flesh,
making it impossible to expand in a full breath out
suffocating in my own shallow chest,
where quickness brings frantic pangs
of desperation, of lost feelings, 
and stillness brings memories of dying.  
the purgatory is living,
in between rhythms and a place.
shame and guilt riddle it with ideas
of how a day might appear in the future,
when times are more...  pleasant.  
ii.
you measure your success in moods; balance.  
when you are doing well you are so good at life.  
when you are struggling, you fail.  you fail.  you...
can't help yourself.  you used to think you could.
you can't help yourself these days.  you fail.  
you can't help yourself.   you fail.  you...