Crashing after the high
slipping beneath the waters of my isolation
hiding away from reality in solitude
the magnitude of my veins are ever-changing,
the blood coursing through in it’s the deepest pigment of red
my pupils dilating; my surroundings opaque in nature as I stare ahead
the bags below my eyes weighing heavier than the thoughts that consume my entity in full
than the voices around me pulling me away from where gravity begs to lure me
a natural disaster of sorts;
like the stillness of the trees that give way to a tornado
the undulating waves ascending to a hurricane
a minuscule crack in the pavement breaking out into an earthquake; the tremor jolting one from dreams of serenity and complacency
the calm before the storm I crave as my antidote
before a tsunami casts it home in the ventricles of my brain and heart
3 AM; the shadows of my reflective spirit and fragile silhouette are all that is in my dark, clouded view
the taste of melatonin and Klonopin hindered by a surplus of adrenaline
sleep seems as far away as where it is I once felt safe
lingering trepidation forms within; injecting illusionary thoughts and images in my mind, placebos in my bloodstream yet
tangible all the same
yearning to discover fiction in the friction
I find my being become enveloped in the toxic air I breathe in my lungs
misguided heartbeats and pulses in search of harmony
surrender to a symphonic ballad sung by foreign tongues in forgotten rhythms
the melody of a destroyed youth
lead by broken metronomes
inhaling and exhaling syncopated tempos constructed from the chords of my melancholic ambiance
obscured in the sound, I strive to obtain resilience as my callused soles crack, running from all that held me captive
rising to a newfound light illuminating through my skin while my scars begin to fade
-Jacquelyn McCoy
About the Poet
Jacquelyn McCoy is 28 years old living in New York, United States. She has dealt with an anxiety disorder for much of her life and writing has helped her as an outlet of choice to release her negative thoughts, feelings, and emotions. Writing has also always been my most effective way of expressing myself. She believes that negative thoughts and an active mind are the most creative, not always in a positive way. The poems remain special to her for turning pain into art, and pessimism into poetic words.

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