I’m starting to feel sick again.
It isn’t the gooey darkness in my heart, no, now
It is beige like a balance beam.
I’m teetering on the edge of the cliff, this time
I’m close to falling, unlikely to fully regain stability.
It’s just who I am; been this way awhile now.
It’s just something I deal with, once in a while
I’m within the inebriated beigeness so I sit and ponder some.
I’m lost in the swirling complexities that could be.
It’s without reason that I drown in sand, breath in water, and
It’s without reason I respire, only half alive.
I’m alive, my heart beats with every unfair rhythm, and
I’m breathing, just under the pressure of the sand.
It’s with thoughts that I find small treatment, only treatment, as
It’s far from being a curable ailment.
I’m on a balance beam, and this time, it is foggy, this time,
I’m not sure I’ll stay beige.
Everything is bland, unflavored. Everything is beige and feels like sandpaper. I’m not here… I am floating somewhere else, somewhere dark and beige and lifeless. I don’t like it here. It hurts my chest.
-Excerpt from Solomon, a novel by Kylie Eileen