waiting for me

It’s oppressive black skies that loom overhead;
 

The heart-stopping stir of falling in dreams.
 

It’s vertigo’s creep just at the cliff’s edge;

 

And the white-knuckle angst of horror film scenes.
 

It’s dread of the dawn inside sleepless nights;

 

The pressure I feel at twenty feet deep.

It’s the smothering clasp of sinking in sand;

The insidious fear of a dark narrow street.

It’s the cold sweat of dusk in sinister woods;

 

The grim buzz of cicadas hidden in trees.

It’s the gnawing unease of the telephone ring;

 

And the panic of drifting far out to sea.

It’s the ulcerous pit that's deep in my gut;

The merciless weight of a jungle’s dank heat.

It’s the nerves of an addict thirsting for smack;

 It’s his seizure—I know—that is waiting for me ...

 

Waiting for me ... waiting for me.

 

photo by Michael Kolster