In Such A Low
my mother would reference this place,
a sort of mental ravine,
her heart might nearly stop,
eyes would glaze?
blood flow in her feigns might suddenly,
spill into one pool of spun lethargy.
This was not a place
she liked to be,
she’d often howl at the nature
of love and all it’s failings.
yet, she never discovered a solution?
only knew when inside?
not a lesser degree of pain
could ever exist.
where my mother was always never to pull the plug,
I might decide otherwise,
though my freedom would be sought?
there leaves a ring of memory,
clinging to everyone’s personal psyche.