The Breakdown

Breakdown

telegraphed like a trainwreck comin down the tracks
and still it hits in slow-motion surprise
as though no one ever believed it could be real
until the moment of impact
that gut-wrenching lurch of a life crumbled

mouthful of ash and regret
eyes dazed, bleeding tears
as though eyes had no other function—
lost their vision, talent for seeing beauty
dark to the sunlight and stars
sand-filled and tasting of bile

slime coats the tongue with its taste of stomach acid
limbs grow granite-heavy like the lids to those windows
peeking into a soul whose drama is scripted by Dante and Milton
and yet Reason’s refrain struggles to restrain self-pity:

I brought this on myself . . .

David M Pitchford
17 March 2009