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2 June 2017

It catches you unawares.

The smothering embrace, reaching around you, collecting you in its arms, covering you, brushing your eyes.


Not always delicately. Occasionally forcefully. Rarely can you resist.

The rocking of a train carriage. The quiet of a darkened room. The fake glare of an airport. The stultification of a meeting. The metronomic words of a book. The heat of an unfamiliar climate.

Today, it is urgent, the call. I feel its soft tendrils around my eyes. It lies heavy on my chest. My arms feel glutinous. The skin on my calves crawls.

When I am like this, no stimulant will ameliorate, no brightness will pierce, no sound will penetrate.

I am warm yet cold. Heavy yet floating. I cannot climb.

© L. A. Davenport 2017-2021.
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