That dread eternal instant

Ten thousand night terrors
      concentrated
             into
                 one
                    moment
 
                       one

                        eternal

                         s t r e t c h e d - o u t
                         moment
                        when I found you
 
                     grey
 
                 still
 
               silent
 
               before your
                last
                  exhalation
                      of
                         air -
 
                          when
                         it
                        left
                       your
                      lungs
                     it was
                     like
                       a
                         final
 
                           escape...
 
                         that culmination
                     of ten thousand night terrors
                was filled with lifetimes 
          of the grief of loss
 
    that
  moment
 
that dread eternal instant
 
then a message surged into my brain
demanding that you live again
I needed you to be alive
You must survive you must survive

heroin was the heartless whore
that held you in her needled claw
and though I feared her murderous might
I wouldn't let her win this fight
the weight of my love gave a beat to your heart
as I gave you the massage of life
and matching my pulse was the chant in my head
you can't be dead you can't be dead
my body became a machine of revival
rhythmically working for your survival
 
and when the paramedics came
 and tagged me in my desperate game
  they had to fight heroically
     to finalise recovery
 
            after
             that 
             night
            the terrors
           amplified
           extending outwards
            to become 
              the very core and
                  crust of my existence

© Jane Paterson Basil

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No longer human

you've not hurt              me  today  so  you
take  your chance            and    you    step
through the   door           with a  flickering
glance and   you're          stirring  the  air
with historic deceits        and dragging  bags
of  tatters and  tooth-      rotting treats you
drop and spill your dirt     over the floor the
pills the needles syringes   and  more  and   I
hope  that  you're  in a cognitive mood  at the
first chance I get I will offer you food but if
you don't want it I know I'm in trouble and all 
you  desire  is to burst my  bubble you  always
pretend to think   you are right as  you  shout
in my face   and      you  try for a fight  and
you always  know        how  best  to   succeed
and all you want          is  to make my  brain
bleed  so    you           shout and you scream
accusations   at            me  and  I can't be
heard as I enter            my plea of innocent
with proof in the          shape of my heart as
your screams increase     as  soon  as I  start

                      and

              I pull out all of my
        tools of prevention to persuade
    you  to  cease this  game of  contention
 but there's no comprehension and no suspension
from this seemingly endless inane invention your
angry  anarchic attack on  convention and I know
that there's  no             mis-apprehension  as
you       play                 dangerous    games
with my heart                  -rate  with   your
nickel- plate                   nonsense you love
to  mis-state                   the truth of each
story    with                   lies that inflate
as you warm at                 the sight  of  the
damage to   date              then   I    finally
 manage  to tell you to go and I see the delight
  writ clear on your face and you step up  the
    evil torture a  pace to force me to push
      you out of the door because I can't
         take it for one second more.

 

you’ve not hurt me today so you take your chance
and you step through the door with a flickering glance
you’re stirring the air with historic deceits
dragging bags of tatters and tooth-rotting treats
you drop and spill your dirt over the floor
the pills the needles syringes and more
and I hope that you’re in a cognitive mood
at the first chance I get I will offer you food
but if you don’t want it I know I’m in trouble
‘cos all you desire is to burst my bubble
you always pretend to think you are right
as you shout in my face and you try for a fight
you always know how best to succeed
and all you want is to make my brain bleed
so you shout and you scream accusations at me
and I can’t be heard as I enter my plea
of innocent with proof in the shape of my heart
as your screams increase as soon as I start
and I pull out all of my tools of prevention
to persuade you to cease this game of contention
but there’s no comprehension and no suspension
from this seemingly endless inane invention
your angry anarchic attack on convention
and I know that there’s no mis-apprehension
as you play dangerous games with my heart-rate
with your nickel-plate nonsense you love to mis-state
the truth of each story with lies that inflate
as you warm at the sight of the damage to date
then I finally manage to tell you to go
and I see the delight writ clear on your face
as you step up the evil torture a pace
to force me to push you out of the door
because I can’t take it for one second more.

Written in February 2015

© Jane Paterson Basil