The Astronomers Last Words (An abundance of poems)

Slam

I breathe in.

I breathe out.

Sharp breaths shallow like the lake I find myself drowning in.

The marker fumes overtake my mindset as I try to write.

One word at a time.

It's not scary just compose a rhyme.

A rhythm.

Take it step by step.

And above all else.

Do.

          Not.

                     Drown.

Writing is holding your own head into the shallow lake.

Thinking about the things you don't want to think about.

Just to make something that is worth thinking about.

Saying the words calmly, the words you yearn to shout.

Keeping an atmosphere so calm the outside world stands no chance.

With a snap in each hand.

And a feeling in each line.

You find yourself not feeling quite as fine as when you entered.

But you find yourself feeling, just feeling. More than when you entered.

With each sharp breath.

That you take to avoid drowning.

With each hand gesture to prove that you mean the words that suddenly seem so...

Clean.

With the eyes fluttering shut at the end of the poem.

With the mind shutting down.

With the final allowance of your being able to drown.

In the shallow

shallow

shallow lake.

Because when you have nothing to say.

And no more reason to take the sharp breaths.

You let yourself drown out.

The people,

the words,

the pain.

You let yourself drown.

And then, your eyes flutter open again.

one breath in.

one breath out.

As the shallow snapping snaps you out of your own mind.

And you step down.

For another person,

to drown.

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