If always and forever
on the higher road
your steps you are taking-

where do you wind up
when you reach your destination?

One night I awoke from deep innocent slumber -
my sheets were wet - and not the wet of sweat
they were soaked. My pillow floated;
my lungs felt heavy, like they’d been sipping molasses

I looked around
my world my room my womb was in a state of disarray, how long has this all been flooded?

I dove into the river of our pain - the tide sucked me under.

grinding machine-like sounds, dark sickness -days passed, my head  was a balloon of blood.

Escape in pleasure?  Emptiness guilt and pain, it was of no use, I was drowning.
I cried, screamed and cried until I forgot how to cry. I grew very cold and still.

My lungs almost full, my breath as shallow as my mind.

I had one chance.

What little energy I had could surely not be wasted on screaming - no one saw the water, they just saw a madman.

I could not flail, no, this was about efficiency of action.

Heart, soul, take our tools, I entrust this life to you. I work for your health.
Surely exists a place where I can let you dry. It may not save the world, but what good can a drowned man do?

that's a poem/article i wrote for Adbuster's mag- It does speak from experience,  memory

and i wrote it in hopes to inspire readers of the magazine to help themselves. if you read the magazine, you see who the audience is, and most articles really hurt, 

so this is a call for shelter.