Purgatory's Nightmare

I am in my own little cocoon.

A perfect little shell
hardened by time watched and spilled over-
MomMom always told me that a watched pot never boils.
Somewhere, there is a distance laughter. Heart filled and hearty
Like comforting food warming the soul on a wintry night. Perhaps
a slow cooked soup.
He wants me to come back. Begs me on ashy knees, sore from a back bending disposition.
I, reluctantly pop my head out.
It is too soon.
I hibernate here. It feels good. So I stay a little longer.
Redecorate the closed in walls and paint a window with the available brushes. At least, I packed the brushes.
Would love to open a window. Sure would be nice to smell fresh air. But its stagnant.
Filled with stinky, thickened exhalations and darkened chambers. I cannot breathe.
I sweat and my perspiration mix with my inhalations and suddenly I choke. I am alone.
In this perfect little shell
and I cannot come up for air. The opening that was once the
rabbit hole leading like a Alice in Wonderland dream
soon turns into a nightmare, complete with
the devil's playground and his minions poking me with that fucking pitchfork. I begin to numb
find comfort in not having any comfort, hopelessly waiting for my mind to go insane
so I may not breathe the sulfur and ash that fills the concave and agitated ground.
Rock bottom.
They say look up. They say, if you hit this place, this wonderful and joyful place (a future sight for revelations and Sunday confessions) that you have nowhere to go but up. No place to turn right
Go left and find the geological crosses of latitude and longitude. I am no cartographer. I have no clue
of where to turn.
I still hear the distant voice.
A familiar voice.
A wrinkle of time captured in my once sane mind. Is this a trick
A dream
A false reality?
Can I really just look up? I raise my head. The tone is louder.
I open my eyes. The inflections grab me.
I roll my neck upward. The syllables reach my lobes. Stun my ears. They ring, assimilating a tug of war
in the brain drain that oppressed me. I...start to feel everything. I look up.
The light blinds me. My hands grab forward, but I do not touch anything. The raging air
Finally finds a break and my skin stops burning like a piece of aloe touched my epidermis,
cooling one layer to the next. and I run to it. This invisible
yet light changing, gravity defying, hope giving, loves alliance-
and I am back in my room.
I peek up. Pop my head out.
The seasons have changed.
Never mind all that.
I am saved,
Once again.

-b.r.rivera-taylor


-Climb out of the abyss, give the middle finger to depression and give life a French Kiss...