The Edge

Reads: 39  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


Spiraling.  

I’m spiraling and I can’t stop 

I can’t stop searching for what I need.  

It’s never enough.  

Fuck 

It’s never enough.  
 

I roll down my car window 

and let the fresh air whip around the metal walls. 

It’s overwhelming, 

but damn, 

does the fresh air feel nice.  

 

It’s distracting, 

if only for a minute or two, 

from my goal of this drive: 
 

to find the stopper to my madness-- 

my downward dive-- 

so out of control. 

 

I can feel myself spiraling. 

 


Submitted: January 12, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A. L. Culverhouse. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:

Comments

Bert Broomberg

A very good description of being depressed.

Tue, January 12th, 2021 11:52am

Archia

I felt like there was so much impact in your poem. I felt like the progression of the poem was a spiral in itself. It had so much depth behind its words. Great poem.

Tue, January 12th, 2021 11:58am

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