Grounded.

A heaviness comes over me.
weights and chains keeping me still.
here.
on the ground.
I have stopped fighting
ready to accept my undeniable penance
each muscle rigid, paralyzed
the anticipation and prodromal doom literally shake my physical form.
My senses overwhelm me
forcing my presence to what seems to be
inhumane
deterioration
of
self.
Reconconstruction of the soul.
The firm grasp and constant pull of the chains subdue me.
My breath s t a g g e r s
Inhale.
Exhale in pregnant hesitation.
Then it happens.
The chains release, though I remain restrained in grief.
Fists, clenched, eyes glued shut
the pain intensifies, growing harder to ignore
to escape.
A tear bursts forth, cleansing my face as it burns down my cheek
temporarily staining my shirt in indelible devastation and shame.
More follow.
The shaking, burning and staining continue to torture me,
Now inviting my nose to swell and drain in sadness,
every nerve in my suddenly awake,
on fire.
The seconds pass in hours,
infinitesimally slow and devastating.
No choice.
My body slides to the sanctity of the floor
I lay there
P A I N F U L L Y  P R E S E N T
just waiting for the ref to call the round.