Weatherman

Filled

To the rim

With anxiety,

Like a rising tide,

My feet don’t reach

The bottom.

I cannot get a sense

Of where I am.

Everything around me

Seems to happen

In slow motion,

While my emotions reel

Like tossing waves.

My mind tries to balance,

But is tossed about

Like a little boat.

Gravity plays with me

Like a child

With his toys,

Crashing them together,

And zooming them around.

I am natures plaything,

In the storm,

I am the storm,

I am a bystander,

I am a weather man,

Like an idiot,

Standing outside

In the wind and rain,

Talking to the camera

Until I can barely stand up.

Time to take my meds.

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Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger, Advocate

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