When he called

It's a funny thing,
the way people talk
about letting go

Like plunging headfirst into a waterfall
The impact leaves you shocked,
breathless
But as the cold sets in
it feels you
were born there

It's funny to me, or peculiar,
rather, That people believe it ends
upon impact

It's the beginning!

When I jumped headlong
into corrosive, murky depths
I had been residing in a sewer
Any waterfall
looked like a pouring of great fortune.

I imbibed poison like NyQuil
It lulled the faint cry of lunacy
to sleep for a time.
I injected you into my veins

I surrendered to toxicity
even as waterways parted
and murky depths gave way
to beautific sunlit pools.

I fought so that I might suffocate in you.
As you fought to suffocate in anything.

Masquerading as buoys.
Funny, or peculiar, rather,
How cinder blocks can look just like rafts
when your mind,
constitution and nature become noxious.

(Written the night Nate called me while in L.A. Updated Nov. 30)