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Chamber: Part II

February 6, 2013


Tired of pacing I took a walk.
And met a doctor who cut me up.
Put me back together right.
The way that I was meant to be.
He said “Take these pills, one every night”.
“They’ll fuck you up, but don’t repent”.
“They’ll let you back into the light”.
And all those pills and surgery.
Copied from an ancient book.
Seemed to be the cure.
So I pressed my will into the dust.
And bowed before his alchemy.
I held out to him my hand.
Out of his apothecary drawer.
He placed a pill.
Onto every shivering finger.
And stressed I must never stand.
How ill I’d been before.

I took them all and slept a sleep.
So deep the dead may dream of.
When I woke I looked into the glass.
The first thing on my mind to see.
What the pills might have done to me.
Dread fear and appalled, I laughed to see I’d wept.
Tears into the churning deep.
All those fears I’d been burning.
To keep me in my brother’s grace.
We’re blown out by the wind.
Once they’d been all I thought worthwhile.
Now, I saw that they were nothing.

Every morning after that I tried to live.
Tried to love what I’d been given.
My eyes became as cool as ice.
My hand as steady as a stone.
And all the things I’d taught myself were thrown.
Into the pool from whence I’d risen.

But I still had my purse of pills.
And I watched them in my palm.
They seemed like the bones of men.
Of armies that I’d overthrown.
But still had not the mercy to kill.
I heard them rattle like a curse.
So, very calm, and in a dream.
I tossed them to the sea.
So that I should never have to battle.
The way I was born to be.
Never feel the dirty thrill.
Of pretending I was never ill.
And this time it was strange.
For this time there were things I’d lost.
Things I’d left behind the sun.
All in a line, I counted them up.
And added their bitter cost.

But some things had stayed the same.
I begged for their forgiveness.
I thought about the pills sometimes.
The man I had before become.
But I left them in the ocean, where they lay.
Instead I prayed.
Lord, let these depths be limitless.

Tired of pacing once again.
I walked to see my doctor friend.
And asked him.
“What dark glamour lines the pit”.
“That we should throw ourselves to it?”.
Heaven forfeit and Heaven forfend.
These games we play should ever end.


From → Poetry

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