Some Candy Talking 12
Is that a wide horizon I see before me . . .
When you lose control . . . and as the fear grows . . .
Too late now, the edge is barely a yard away and as I think the thought I am already flailing in this empty air. No, it is not empty -
As it all rushes headlong within me, with increasing speed, with increasing rapidity the time slows, but it never stops, and so becomes endless until there is now this ultimate moment in a sense of slow-
What happened, where did it go wrong, where did it all go so terribly wrong. Is this even real? The dream turns. It is the wide open ground which is rushing up to meet me -
And, I mean . . . how long is nine point eight metres per second per second -
All is still so unnecessarily remote.
Remember a day, you know the one I mean -
That endless moment of loss. How can you lose something that is constantly reminding. It is just too huge, too vast and so uncomprehending -
It hurts, it hurts . . . the gnawing ache is total. This is the only feeling -
Still falling. Always still time for the rescue. Here come the life guards, so uniform, so brave. Reliant. So strong. Catch me as I fall.
Still, falling . . . watch me as I fall. Running over the same old ground until everything has all become rendered numb. There is no feeling, no sentiment. It is all the same. Live by numbers. Lead a normal life. Slash those wrists. Give way to hope. Remember the loneliness as a gentle tune wanders through your mind . . . wash away the moment . . . I’m waiting for something, I’m only passing time and now I’m all alone and I don’t care and I don’t care but . . .
No. Never live a normal life, do not fight back or even struggle just give in and accept the defeat -
Is that ground getting any closer yet -
I suppose, ultimately, in a more existential form, there is always likely to be some gordian knot or, alternatively, perhaps, and even more correctly, we find it will be along the centre line of a mobius strip that my life will always follow . . . and so there never will be an end to reach. Looping endlessly around and reaching the same crisis again and again . . . relentlessly . . . I can’t take it no more . . . so, until the next time. The hurt is here and, just like a broken leg, it will be of no use. It just stays here and there is no point in ever searching for any resolution or conclusion . . . or, even, don’t laugh, any hope.
Just watch me as I fall -
. . . and the life guards just stand there . . . stand there, silent, waiting . . . and, yes, there is one standing at each of the stations of the Cross . . . extreme unction.
Cry for me . . . cry out for me . . .
So be it.
Jump with me.