Freya Gamble

lingering scent, skin heat
and the drawing of it
recalled fervently
behind scrunched lids:
those strangely,
disappointingly distant images
of wanton disregard
wane to nubilous sepia.
but meaningless playful instants,
less guiltily conjoured
inexorably potent glimpses,
elicit that selfsame response.

all these drugs that pollute us
amplify and mute us
subvert us, divert us
mend us and hurt us

kill us
fulfill us
convince us we’re living
enhance us
romance us
illude that we’re free;
debase us
sedate us;
there’s nothing you’re missing
conceal us
reveal us
...and leave us

promise elation
ensuing deflation
like love lost to reason
whats left now feels dry

distracting myself while i kill my time
waiting for something
i dont even know
will i look back on these squandered days,
scold myself for my ignorance?
applaud and grieve my innocence?
or just wish i hadn’t waited?

i am sure to regret my cowardly inactivity
but sure also to regret my haste
if i dare
abuse this fortunate equilibrium

i am drowning
but at least the water is clear.