The Leak

Do you ever feel like your mind is leaking?

Drip, drip, drip.

 

            Somewhere there is a little hole.  I’m not exactly sure where.  My sanity is leaking out.  Oozing, expulsing, melting sludge.  The liquid burns my skin like ice.  The pain almost unbearable.

 

Drip, drip, drip.

 

            I think of the story about the little Dutch boy who plugged a leaky dike with his finger.  Hey!  I have some Dutch in my heritage!  Perhaps I should try that.  But then again, if I plug the source only another hole would surely rupture open.  I’d look rather silly walking around with my fingers stuck in my head.

 

Drip, drip, drip.

 

            I glance in the mirror but don’t know the woman looking back at me.  I like her slender neck and her soft skin, but cringe at the sight of her wrinkles and those saddlebags under her eyes.  She’s old. Maybe her heart is still young.  She’s not broken, more like a toy simply lacking batteries.

 

Drip, drip, drip.

 

            I can’t sleep at night, the nightmares gallop through my dreams.  I stop watching T.V. and reading the news with hope that it will help. But thoughts, memories and fears continue swirling franticly into a torrid, bloody hurricane.  I’m the director of this scene and yell, “Cut!” to no one listening.  I’m becoming one of the characters in my books, the one who’s afraid to sleep.  Or has he become me?

 

Drip, drip, drip.

 

            Sanity.  It’s highly overrated.  Those who don’t have it may know something we don’t.  Maybe that’s why they can smile at nothingness.  I look into the reflection of my eyes.  They are cold, colorless, empty.  What’s missing?  My spirit?  My soul?  Or just part of it?  Shall I search?

 

Drip, drip, drip.

 

            I’ll take a hot shower.  Yes, that’s the ticket!  The cascading water will mask that bothersome drip, hide that annoying leak.  Douse me with lavender.  Help me relax.  Oh, but it’s only temporary.  The water turns cold.  Take a deep cleansing breath and face the world.  I unfurl myself.  Stand.

 

Drip, drip, drip.

            Yes, God, I hear you.  I’ve always heard you, I just don’t always understand.  Unlike Jonah, I will not run and hide.  I know you will answer my questions… eventually.  You’ve tested me before.  I have proven my strength.  Yes, God, I hear you.

 

Drip, drip, drip.

 

            Now give me a moment alone with the midnight sun.  Let me finish my chamomile tea.  Ah… peace.  All right then, I shall not go quietly into the night.  Arm me with the laughter and giggles of my children.  Hand me that shovel and I will dig through all this s**t.  Fetch me the garden hose. I will drown Hell.

 

Drip, drip, drip.

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Jack Bridges]

This was an interesting piece. I don't think I fully understood it though.