Creative Writing

Return to Form [Freeform Poem]

Spend this year without sleep.


Give yourself up to the current and



fight and drown,

fight and drown,

fight and drown down.


It’s only a year,

except each day pretends it’s a decade.

Snippings of seconds curl inwards,

these smaller moments unforgotten.

Provided, of course, that

you care to remember.


The days will peel away.




the unwrapped core will glow,

a white-hot finality

burning in your hands.



Undo the loop of routine.

Follow the unwound curve

and feel towards the end.


It takes a year,

but how long is that?

Three hundred and sixty five days,


three hundred and sixty five decades?


Soon I shall find out.


I’m pinching my nose.

I’m squinting my eyes.

I’m snatching a breath.






I drop off the rocks and slip into the rapids.

Wish me luck.


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