Circles

The air is thick. Humid. Hazy.

The air gets caught in my throat. I can’t breathe, but pretend to anyway.

Protests come from below, dull from not thinking enough.

Focus. Defocus. Escape. Evolve.

I am the wolverine.

It’s too dark to see, with no light (natural or otherwise) and that haze. The haze drenches me, like walking through water. But there is no comfort here. It is a mirage, false.

Overheated. Getting to the end much too soon. Evolve. Thousand-mile stare.

Waiting for the high.

Onlookers? Real or imagined, I don’t know. Starring. Judging. They don’t know me.

I am the wolverine.

I am the bull: watch me rage.

I could swear they are watching me. Escape. Bottleneck. Unknow.

Then comes the turn. As if starting over.

Waiting for the high, the sweet release.

Inside it burns. It burns like battery acid. Each moment I can taste it in the air. That haze.

It’s over, I know it. But I promised myself that tonight I wouldn’t care. Keep going. Reach clarity. Exist. De-exist. Think about anything but what you are doing.

Falter . . .

I am the wolverine.

You will see my strength. And you will be amazed.

Waiting for the high

We come to the end. The protests have now become screams. Every ounce screams.

I am the wolverine.

Evolve. Desensitize. Through the haze and the promises and the acid and the screams.

I stop. It burns. Breathe. Breathe in the thick haze. Sweat stings my eyes. Just breathe.

Slowly, I come back to reality. I stagger, drunkenly. My breath slowly becomes normal again.

I walk through the boiling water. The high never comes. I look back at the haze one last time. My head is light. I swim through my mind. No more evolving. No more escaping. Just being.

It’s a start.

I am the wolverine.