I’ve been watching/reading a lot of slam poetry these past few weeks. I love it. I know it’s performance art and I’m not strictly performing this but what I write here speaks to me on that level. My very own performance poetry. 

Titled: Wobbling

We all wobble, right?

Lately, I wobble every day. 

Sometimes I wobble so long I wonder if there is such a thing as wobbling and maybe this is my new normal; am I meant embrace it?

But I can’t embrace the darkness, no matter how hard it tries I’ll never be able to accept its arms around me, I’ll never not feel creeped out by the shadows it leaves when it steps from my head to the corner to watch me, leering from the side of my eyes while it pulls my clothes off and breathes heavy in my ear, whispering all the dirty, shameful, unspeakable things it’s going to do to me once it gets a foot in the door of my self and a hold on my body again, leave my mind in pieces, leave me choking under its weight while it’s death covers me, knowing I have no choice but to be and all I want, all I wish, as I scrub my body and I scrub my skin, all I wish I wish I wish…

Today I wobbled again. The dark returned and it swallowed me whole but I did not embrace it. I struggled and I cried I railed and I yelled but I did not embrace it. I didn’t have the strength to fight for long but I did not embrace it. I did not hold out my arms for an embrace. I didn’t hide myself in those comforting folds of darkness. I curled up and I hid and I resisted. The darkness surrounded me but it did not swallow me. I did not embrace it. 

I wish I could see the light again.

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