The Levee

 Here we are.

Where are we?

When did this happen?

When did I forget how to do this? The very reason, explanation for my single-minded reason to exist?

When did I become a shell of the mind and manifestation that I used to be?

When did it all change?

So many fragments from the past that stab like small slivers under the fingernail and yet they go unnoticed. The figments and facades of the past linger like paper cuts unseen yet never heal correctly. You carry those subtle scars indefinitely.

I remember when this was beyond second nature. Words flowed like Angel Falls from my mind to the point that I thought I was going crazy. I could never keep up with the narrative. I lived in the story I was trying to always tell. I couldn't breathe if it wasn't written. I lived with the characters I wrote.

A few years seems line an eternity.

My fingers feel atrophied, coated in rust and decay. Do I even have a voice anymore?

All that I've given, all that I've lost. Was it worth it if I'm so far gone and sinking into the routine? Is this all I am now?

Nina Simone, Miles Davis, and the sounds of an early morning street were the metronome that used to dictate the pattern and pause and pulse of the uncontrollable currant of verbosity that stemmed from my brain. And now I look at a keyboard like an explorer finding an ancient ruin so alien to them they can't comprehend what they see. Am I that far gone?

Be responsible. Be an adult. Be considerate....

    All phrases that come like the first gusts in a hurricane.

        They lash and scratch and score and scar as the billowing thunder cascades down upon me, moving in to break and destroy and annihilate everything that I am.

Faces and friends from ancient days oscillate in the frontal lobe: reminders of the comforts of the past while serving as the sous knife that kills those concepts you've helped onto life a life preserver. When did I forget those who mattered so much to me?

Standing out in the middle of the night, staring blankly at a black tar, slow sludge of a languid river dripping in concealed moonlight; i can't tell if I'm crying or if my eyes are freezing. I see my life in it's entirely pass in the momentary pass of a river glint. 

I am broken. No horsemen can fix this, no kinsmen can amend this. I delve deep into the depths of my shame and sorrow. The only light I see is down in the darkness.

I wake up. I am so much older than I remember. These hands have wrinkles and the grey hair in my bear shocks me still. I glance out the window and see the first break of sunlight creeping over the urban landscape. I close my eyes, unsure of which reality I prefer more.

I walk out my front door, 'Led Zeppelin' performing in my ears. I'm not sure if I can sustain.

"When the levee breaks..."

I continue my stride uphill as the sun crests the red brick mills around me.

When the levee breaks...

        I refuse to be flooded.