The walls are breathing with my scattered mind,
I count the cracks, then count them all again.
The door is locked, but only from inside.
Each thought returns, the tethered and confined,
They loop like echoes pulsing through the brain.
The walls are breathing with my scattered mind.
Each hour bleeds into the one behind,
I mouth the words I swore I’d not retain.
The door is locked, but only from inside.
My hands recall what sight has long maligned,
They scratch at truths I cannot quite explain.
The walls are breathing with my scattered mind.
I know the truth, though truth has been unkind,
It turns and turns, a slow, familiar chain.
The door is locked, but only from inside.
The faces blur, the voices realigned,
I am the cage, the captive, and the chain.
The walls are breathing with my scattered mind,
The door is locked, but only from inside.
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Tim is an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. He writes about rural life, family, and the places he grew up around. His poetry and essays have appeared in Bloodroot and Coal Dust, his latest book.
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts7 days ago in Longevity
Comments (3)
Well-wrought! I agree with Dharrsheena, those particular lines really strike deep!
"I am the cage, the captive, and the chain." Whoaaaa, that line was so deep, sad, and brilliant! Loved your poem!
Great piece, I love the villanelle structure, and this was wonderfully creepy. Definitely giving off Poe vibes.