Treasure Island

Emily Beck

For The Love of Excitement

Silence sweeps in on shattered glass.
It stabs and rips through stomach lining,
Driving tiny shards up through swollen veins
Into a racing heart,
Forcing valves open and closed
Blue blood gasping for fresh air.

Legs and body ache as muscles
Pull taunt strings as puppets
Into positions of certain strain.

Inside the brain, heart pounding
Against the bony walls.
Thoughts racing but inconsistent,
Incoherent. It is all irrelevant.
All that matters is winning the game.

Flutters eat away the stomach until it's sour
But still, press on.
Raw faces dripping raw sweat,
It doesn't bead anymore.

I remember that excitement.
The shrills of a child on Christmas.
A thousand warm 'thank you's' as payment.
Yes I remember
What has become no more than a memory.

Excitement I do not feel.
I have not felt in eons.
They dance around exceptions
Hoping things will happen
'Oh, I'm so excited',
But will it be your expectations?

Walk within a void of excitement
Chittering chipmunks with cheeks stuffed full,
Talking about grandiose plans.
Painting pictures of dancing and laughter.
It is never as easy as we say.
'Just hit the nail on the head',
But... in a very particular way.

Submitted: Monday, March 25, 2013

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