Upside Down

I want to hang upside down,
with my hair dangling beneath me,
the blood rushing into my skull,
biting my cheeks crimson.
The world will numb and drift away,
heavily swallowing me up.

I want to feel choked with the pulse of my heart as it pounds behind both of my eyes.
I want to slowly lose sensation in my toes,
to observe the tingly feeling of flesh that could die if left unattended.
I want to fling my arms over my head — or beneath it, as it were;
to let my hands fill with blood;
to let my fingers swell as the gorge on my life-force,
sucking it from my vital parts.
I want to feel that teetering balance between really living,
really being,
and really feeling that my life is fading away;
all the while knowing that I feel so alive,
more alive than ever before,
but knowing that my life’s consciousness is no different than any other.
To feel that my life is under my control,
but also out of control.
My mind changes how things are seen,
and what is wanted to be seen.
That wondrous sensation between what is real and what is in my mind.

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