Headmed Poem by Guy Northam

The coil is broken,
There is a sense of falling;

I have been tightly sprung,
Now unwound.

The ground rush,
Rushing up;

Into darkness, I drive;
In darkness, I alight.

The presence beside me,
Malevolent and dead.


As the chemicals fade, I settle
into it,
The blackness washing over,
My depression worn
Like an old coat, comfortable and
grim.
Without the beauty of protection,
I lose the warmth.

In the bottom of the trough
You cannot see the peaks.


Sitting in the rain, slumped over,
the wetness on my legs, I'd recoil
from the drug

But all is barred, all blacked out,
embraced still by the paralyzing
prophylactic,

The poison in my head.