by Thomas Emmon Pisano

Created on: June 19, 2009

The Tragic Lost

I feel like I am suffocating, under water or behind a thick piece of glass, impenetrable, closed, and forbidden from the breath of the world. Lost under the sea and with out a moment's relief, always swept into the currents of the vast seas. My mind swaying to and fro on an endless pendulum, a struggle for the truth of my existence. Sometimes I sleep in this world of secret voices and phantoms assaulting me, I am in a half waking state of beeps, buzzes and discussions, I am the maid of honor, and the thing pitied. I am here in this netherworld.

My feet dangle in this pool of dreams; I am the one who is allowed to touch the brackish waters edge, cold, dark, and joyously seductive, but never being allowed to swim in the inky darkness, which is always present. My dream always contradicts my thoughts.

My life is like that of the a mime's, I search the box for its limits, I never really find where they are, except I am within the borders of some unwanted realm in some unwanted country into which I seem to be exiled and banished. That's it, I am banished and my familiars are allowed to visit me here in my prison, but they never see me nor do they bring me any real joys, just tokens of my unexplained detention. I must escape this unwanted land and return to my own true home, I must escape, I must.

I gasp repeatedly for the air I need to continue my search for freedom. Where am I? Where am I? Where am I? Why is every thing so unfamiliar, why must I be lost? My agonies crescendo; the trumpets and drums crash into heavens hellish rhythms, it is an explosion of sound and color. My stomach hurts; it is a hunger, which cannot be fed.

My eyes flicker and I can see the surface, there are people standing above the waters, they are extending their life preservers to me, and they call my name. What is my name, call me again, I cry with muted lips again and again they reach for me, I sink faster and disappear, lost to the dark sad currents of this unknown secret sea.

It is all black, I cannot move, have I been buried alive? Am I the product of some misunderstanding by some unwitting doctor, have I been misdiagnosed as dead, but really you can see I am alive, really. The darkness is like a cold upon my soul, I am freezing, but I am not cold, the darkness is in side of me, like a vicious lover, taking and not giving, ravaging my god self, I see something in the blinding darkness, a crease, a fold, an advantage but only briefly then it is gone. I have

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