a healthy dose of not me
A poem of conquering hopelessness by Daniel Whitlow
I have discovered the cure for myself —
in this disconnected wasteland of shuffling,
muffled footsteps, and bloodless, ashen faces;
the ubiquitous scarab-beetle-skittering-across-my-brain is a product of habit,
a sadistic compulsion I cannot control,
a therapy to alleviate my burden on the world —
this is how it feels;
a remedy for the space I consume —
the darkness covers but does not break us
with lonely, cold concrete helplessness,
an existence without life, without color,
embrace obstinacy: refuse to accept nothingness and regret as everything,
the anguish of our circumstance is mortal.
a tonic to wash away my presence —
this is how it feels;
a treatment to remove the disease that is me —
the ice winds carry a sense of longing;
vast left-alone-disregard for man and muscle,
walls of frozen granite and contagious denial,
I will not want for the sun — it will long for my flesh to bronze beneath its blistering gaze,
just on the horizon, there. I see what comes.
a medicine to amputate my rotten ends —
this is how it feels;
a poultice to arrest the infection I spread —
it is the dead face of a living idea,
the multitude of defeated, convicted
by these deciding razor realities, lay motionless
in its wake and as time crawls on, so do they disappear. I see a gentle, sacred stream amidst
a barren desert of false assurances and heartfelt intolerance.
an easy solution to all our problems —
this is how it feels.
Author’s Note
Hopelessness is a construct of oppression, an illusion used to weaken resolve and coerce surrender. An illusion is not real. Oppression’s power is not real. Resist.
About the Author
Daniel Whitlow received a life sentence at 17. He began writing and thought that no one would ever hear his words. He considers this opportunity — to share a part of himself he thought was lost to the indifferent, unhearing void of razor wire and concrete emptiness — to be life changing. His gratitude is beyond expression.
