The Letter "M"
by Chris Walden

I stare off into space; my eyes frozen in their place.
I can hear my head throbbing; my heart is beating loud.
My ears are ringing. I can hear only myself.
My mind is at first blank like an empty portrait.
My mind is consumed with that one thought, and
I can't stop thinking about it; it's all I can think about.
It seems very warm in here - I'm starting to sweat now.

My thought is focused all on one being,
My canvas is filled with one color.
My heart is beating faster, faster, faster.
My lungs despair for air, I'm breathing heavy, faster.
My muscles are tightening, aching without oxygen.
What's happening to me? Am I running a marathon?
I can't stop thinking about it, and that's why I'm exhausted.

I pull my eyes away from it, and my muscles relax as I pull away.
I force myself to tear my own eyes from their prey.
The safety of my room has become a furnace;
My clothes are soaked with sweat - it's really hot in here.
Or is it my body that has become the furnace?
I'm totally out of breath just by looking. Looking.

What the hell was I thinking?
What was the point of just looking, if it sapped my strength?
My mind was polluted, corrupted,
Tainted, consumed by the one thought.
Sure, it felt good to dwell on that one moment,
But I'm not sure that I can live with the guilt of the aftermath.
I no longer want to look at it;
My soul and mind aren't hungry anymore.
I can't imagine why I would want to look at it.

But that's what scares me.
I know that I'll return to it tomorrow.
It beckons me, begs me, taunts me, convinces me.
I know that no matter how disgusted I am with it,
I know that I will answer its call.