By the lake

I stand and stare,
The black water beckoning me on, floating like charcoaled silk,
Late summers breath ripples upon its surface,
Struck by the moons naked glow,
Splintering the mirrored surfaces reflection across,
Silence surrounds me like a blanket,
The only sound, frictionless water lapping at the muddy bank, Silver mists of impending autumn dance upon a dying seasons chill breath,
I feel myself tumbling toward it,
Sensations of icy water against my warm bare flesh,
Uttering a shrill and girlish gasp, stealing away my breath, Leaving me yearning for air,
Suffocated by this dark fluid as it envelops my distorted expression,
I succumb to its depths, glacial in its blackness,
Lungs heave in my pounding chest, hitching for the air of life,
Head swims light and dizzy, euphoric images eddy in psychedelic visions, Lost in imagery, forgetting where I am,
No apprehension of my imminent death, or concern,
Forced sleep falls gently upon me, by a mind starved of oxygen,
A body relaxed in a natural high, I come to rest on a bed of rock and silt, Surrounded by luxuriant vegetation dancing back and forth,
Fish swim around my lifeless corpse,
My internal view in the fish bowl of life,
A cry rises from the dark, voices in anxious tones from behind me, And back to here and now again,
Entranced by the gentle rolling swish of the lake,
Spellbound by the waves on black silk,
Standing bare foot on damp night grass,
Feeling the world between my toes,
And wondering if, and how, in a definite maybe,
Will I ever find the path back to me,
Before my dreaming becomes reality,
And this becomes my last resting place,
And my time has run out.

Wow, this is going to be a long explanation. In the early 2000’s I lived in a small hamlet in Northamptonshire, so small it had no shop to buy your fags or daily paper, no pub, with the exception of the hotel, where i was employed and discouraged from using its bar, no school, buses or bus stops and only about 4 street lamps. The residents of the hamlet worked for either the country house or the hotel, and was located a good 20-30 minutes from Northampton town centre. I had never seen a police car in the village unless we had a break in to a car in our car park, mainly during weddings, but this was once in a blue moon. They never cruised the area, this will become understood as I progress.

I had been drinking hard for the best part of 18 months, I had succumb to two major falls in the preceding years, both had the potential to kill me outright, but only the second one saw the nasal bone puncture my brain sack and more than likely caressed the brain its self and it plunged deeper, both of the stories of these accidents will appear on here in the near future. This particular night I was at what I thought to be rock bottom, I have since discovered it was just a bathroom break on the journey I was on, rock bottom was still miles away. I was depressed, I had just about had enough of what this life had to offer, so much pain and too much time to endure it. I had left the pub in a neighbouring village one bank holiday at the end of August, I was walking home, past the lake mentioned in the poem, I did stand on the damp grass on the bank, bare feet, trying to gather the courage to jump in, with the intention of drowning.

For the first time ever a police car had passed me standing their, the officers left the car to check if I was alright, thus snapping my mind from my intended mission. Would I have gone through with it? I will never know. I had the intention and believed that I also had the will. It was a dark time for me, but it got darker over the next three years, but still rock bottom was never reached, that took until 2012-14.

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