the Abyss

I am tumbling.

Down, down, down.

The sensation is pleasant at first.

The feeling of weightlessness seems euphoric.

Then, suddenly, Terror grips me

I feel my windpipe constrict

Reeling and flailing

I kick and struggle and resist

but to no avail.

Jagged rock and clods of dirt grasp and cling

Bite and scratch unrelentingly

I feel my bones crack and wail

I taste warm blood upon my lips

And I cry out

But produce no sound strong enough

to carry toward the light that has long since receded above

The pit in my stomach yawns in enormous dread

Like a giant chasm

Helplessness.

And so I,

I succumb

to Gravity.

Blackness.

Disoriented.

I wake. At least, I think I do.

Unconsciousness slips away, then returns

like a lingering wave upon the sand.

It's so hard to tell.

I know something's broken.

My jaw? My ribs? My arm?

But the panic has seared all pain

And coalesced into a numbness

My eyes strain, willing to see some form or shadow.

But, perceiving nothing,

I quickly lose heart.

The same old Terror seizes me.

I stumble, hands outstretched

Scrambling, clamoring for the edge, a wall, a stone

Anything.

Where are my bearings?

What are bearings?

There is no north or south, nor east, nor west

Words lose their meaning down here.

The falling has warped all sense of space and time

I blink.

The fluttering of my own eyelids is the only sensation and signal I can perceive

There is no light down here.

Day 14.

I have memorized the walls.

Some of them, anyway.

They stretch before me, these alien cavernous canyons

Taunting me, evading me.

I struggle to climb and grip the sides

But I know better by now.

I have fallen too many times to count.

Convex, concave

The sheer height and angles prevents me from what I desire.

Escape.

Day 21.

My eyes have not adjusted.

In fact, they're probably useless by now

but I have learned not to need them.

The walls that I have loathed

Have become familiar.

I know their grooves, their nuances.

I dare to explore

Creeping along, sometimes sprinting ahead

around corners and nooks and quarries.

I am in uncharted territory, but it matters not.

By now,

I can anticipate their turnings, their leanings.

Day 39.

The loathing has passed.

It is Loneliness, and not Terror that grasps for my attention

But I pay her no heed.

I recall days up Above

The smell of new shoes

and of filet mignon

The soft murmur of in low-lit rooms

The thrill of new conversation

and uncovering the mystery of Another

Navigating through

Insecurities and quirks

Phobias and defense mechanisms

and being bound by memories

by obligation

by preconception

and self-consciousness.

And I recall

the pain of learning to unveil myself

in the presence of Another

and

unlearning Fear.

I fight exhaustion

drift to sleep...

I am stunned to wake and realize one morning--

if it can be called that down here--

That this Abyss

has always been part of my world.