The despairing calm



A despairing calm,
desperately calm.

It sits behind,
like a noble hind.

The hunter is close.
Hear him,
Feel him.

Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe
out.

It whispers:
“Calm,
calm,
calm 
down.”

It presses.
Sways,
sways,
sways
to lull.

Pointless.
Cramped.
Dull.

Where am I?
What am I?

Suddenly -

By a strange coincidence.
Maybe by accident,
maybe by design,
by someone
or something.

I take a sip of Reality.
It burns me,
but I sink into it.
I wear it,
taste it,
want more.

But -

Again,
again,
again -
(for some reason)
I fall,
Fall,
FALL.

And here it is.
The despairing calm.
15.03.2025

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