Alamere, am I gonna die now?

Closer to my deadline and further from my goal

Twenty-five is turning out to be less than I’d hope

I thought I was going to die, I was so high

Running through the woods as if I could fly

Trying to get back to the ranch

Seeking that blond-haloed goddess

who will keep me from death

Rushing to get out of this place

so I can finally be safe

Before I pass out

I’m close to dehydration, I can’t tie my boots

I got to keep moving

So I don’t lose my shoes

Skipping through sand, my legs made of stone

I am becoming granite,

My muscles taut,

Like moving through peanut butter,

I’m stuck –

A sepia-toned video of loved ones

obscures my vision of the trees,

I can’t help thinking,

I keep checking my map,

Not sure of the direction,

I still have time to reach heaven,

But I’m tripping and falling,

I can’t seem to get out,

My legs don’t want to work,

The blue in the sky is so bright

I am fighting the tears in my eyes

It is all so beautiful, and I know

this is how it feels to be dying

My throat tight and vocal cords frying,

Keep reaching for that white bottle

with nothing inside

I can’t help thinking,

Visions of my body

collapsed in the sandy path,

tourists all crowding,

Flys buzzing in my eyes,

I can see it all, ‘cause,

I know that this is how I’ll die now

The ranch is too far away

and my legs don’t want to work,

Keep trying to run

So I won’t lose my burst

of energy in this tripping daze,

I hear my heart pounding,

My throats gone dry,

I finally reach the landing,

But what was the code, gal?

5–1–8–7, 5–8–1–7, I’ve got it right,

Out of the heat and into the shade,

to the faucet to replenish my veins

Nothing seems to be working,

Can’t keep anything down,

But I’m so thirsty,

My irises vanish

in a sea of black,

I’m watching from the outside

of my body, it’s ego-death

Not sure what’s happening,

Nor where I am, but

you keep me sane,

my hearts still beating,

and I am safe,

while I am still panicking,

with a vision of my death,

I am still breathing, and

I can see my body,

hear my voice,

feel your clothes,

and hear your words,

reassuring me,

that this is all nerves,

I was so high,

I lost my mind,

ran so fast,

I got there in time,

Standing in the shower,

The water isn’t cold enough,

My skin is on fire,

My throat isn’t hydrated enough,

,

I’ve no appetite, but I can look in the mirror

and see that I’m alright

my pupils have taken over

my eyes, once blue,

and I can hear myself speaking, but

I can’t match my words to the woman

in front of you

I have lost my mind, and

I can’t help thinking,

and I’ve realized that

all these little things

that occupy my time

make no difference

if I am going to die

All that matters

Is that I live each day

and remind myself,

I did not die today

tripping in sixteen miles,

you know, I made it to the place

where the white ranch posts piles

of sentient pears that move in the night,

and of all the things, it appears we’re all right

little mice remind us that we’ve got our hearing, in spite

of the fear that I might die tonight,

I can feel myself drifting into sleep,

with a comforting rhythm of my heartbeat

--

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R.D. Boucher

Dami grew up in Hillside, NJ and attended Rutgers University in New Brunswick, NJ. She is currently working on her PhD in Santa Cruz, CA.