Attempted Drowning

Attempted Drowning
-Original Text April 7, 2008-

It was a long time coming,
This slow, hesitant walk to our world’s demise.
Three years or more of bitterness and contempt have led us here,
Though none could have guessed it would end this way,
On a forgotten Sunday night
In this lost and childish area of town.

Taking involuntary steps towards a shaded future,
Not one of us wishes to lead the way,
Guided only by the path we find in front of us.
Uncertainty thrives behind our glazed eyes,
As we all contentedly follow our feet farther from safety.

Wandering through skeletons of mortar and stone,
We find ourselves suddenly aware of our shared fate.
All of us were eternally bound together,
Destined to remain a part of each other,
Yet never again to be completely whole.

Empty pockets make no sounds at 3am.
Unlike those of people who forget
That there’s no need for I.D. on the guillotine.

Our walk continues, past the same places that we once called “home,”
They are now unfamiliar and threatening,
Perpetuating the fear that already swallows my brain,
As the gallows make their presence known.

Previously concealed, they rise from the landscape,
Nooses laughing as they long for our inhibitions and desires.
Knowing exactly why we have been brought here,
On this particular night, in this particular state.

The smell of alcohol dances before us,
Bolstering our courage and taunting our reservations
As we slowly register that there is no turning back now.
This is the final resting place, and
A mere fence separates us from our last few moments,
Forcing us to leave our torn jeans and weathered faces at the gate.
There is only blind justice here,
No bias or privilege is levied upon us.

We are given our last few seconds to consider the past,
To place it behind us and to finally live once more, in the present.
Collectively, we hold our breath and jump.

The water closes quickly over our heads.
I open my eyes and look silently ahead at my clouded future.
Dirt, grime and ambiguity are all that I can see
As I contemplate the idea of remaining
At the bottom of the deep end of the world forever.

But I cannot.

This is the end.
The end of the pain and the tears and the grudges.
The end of not knowing, of driving ourselves mad.
Of wishing that things were different,
And willing them to be.

This is the end.

No.

This is a brand new beginning.