Bulwark Against Desolation

Most of the night, I stare at my ceiling. The indigo darkness crushes against me as I take another breath. My eyes can roll back into the back of my head but can they push my thoughts even further away? I wait, I wait, I wait. There's another familiar tick of the clock. More waiting. Then I realize; the wait is over, I have nothing left to wait for.

I shift about, looking from side to side watching only darkness creep by. There's no siren responding to the call of emergency any more, there's just a numbing silence. There's no murmur of slumbering companions in any direction. As the break of day sweeps away the night, a glow shines through my blinds. I've seen this sunrise before, but somehow it seems unfamiliar. I twist myself upright, moments away from collapse.

I can see that sunrise elsewhere, hitting a thicket of trees as their shadows lengthen in the sun. It felt like my last day on earth, again - my last day on an earth that I had a hand in creating and destroying all at once. I shake my head. Don't worry son, my father would say. Just don't worry about it. I'd nod in agreement, usually. Speeding through this defeat can't kill me. On the other hand, if it does, I just might let it.

I swallow a bulwark against desolation and wait for it to calm the tempest and storm. The swell subsides, the screams extinguish. In giving up a wound, I slip into stupor. I walk across thorns, I fall to the floor, I play my favorite record. They all end up wretched and blinding; barely there. Just like me.