It comes in frothy waves, this chilled
wall of guilt. They crash and crush,
leaving salt behind to sting and bite the flesh.
Shame pushes inward and down, like thousands of
invisible hands made from numbing
gusts of wind from somewhere across the sea.
Pressure from all sides molds the body into a cave
of bone and flesh. They say breathe
deep and slow but the lungs are drowning
and the heart is twitching as it is relentlessly squeezed.
Touch any thought, and it might explode.
Flames erupt, shooting sparks of dazzling colors
into the darkness. Pupils dilate frantically
hoping, aching, straining to make sense of it all.
And then the light is gone and you must walk
on through this inner minefield of dusty memories
and repeated phrases.
Bring your bow and arrow
when you enter, and step softly. The mind
is no place for the unprepared.