Alone in the dark

[tectak]

.

I faced my demons one by one,welcome back,dale. You seem to have been in a bad place if this is the result. I am not convinced that there is veracity in this stanza. The counterpoint to banishing demons being facing your own mortality does not hang straight.
saw them for what they were
and banished them with mental magic
until I came face to face with my own mortality....and to and to my discomfort I cannot get the flow. If there is a reason for the random peregrination I can usually see it and sometimes I even understand it. Not this time. S1 hard to read.....that is all

Death and his side-kick panicneeds a comma after kick to turn panic into a noun otherwise it is a verb
blew through my pop-pseudo-psychology
like an eighteen wheeler blows through summertime
mirages out on hwy 180 between Hobbs and Seagravethis line seems hasty, lazy or unedited. How do I scan/pronounce hwy 180?
where my dad would drive from home to work and back.
He worked at the chemical plant where the “Mexicans”they were mexicans or they were not mexicans. What are "Mexicans"?
—sitting among waves of heat rising off concrete—
made a lunch of hot black coffee and jalapenos. great imagery. feel the heat, smell the coffee, taste the jalapenos....fuck the rhythm.

It wasn’t suppose to happen the way it did,
she was suppose to be there to support him
when he had his first heart attack
and keep him alive until Denton Cooley
learned to do cardiopulmonary bypass surgery,
by stealing from the leg and giving to the heart.

She wasn’t suppose to die
having a meaningless and unneeded hysterectomy.
I couldn’t help him, I was only five.
What did I know of the panic that gripped him every night
lying there alone trying to sleep and seeing his own death staring back.
Emotional raw meat wondering at every chest muscle twinge
if this was it, but was too John Wayne tough to ever admit being afraid.

Today, I have an intimate relationship with death and panic,
waking up from an asthma attack in the dark of night
feeling like I am drowning and wondering
if I will ever catch my next breath.
Knowing makes me no more able to help him then,
than I am able to help myself now.

He needed her and her optimism,
the “everything’s going to be all right” mantra,
but she died out of time, drowning in her own fluids
due to an allergic reaction to magic ether juice.
So instead of being reconciled by her to a better reality
we were just two small helpless boys alone in the dark,
trying to make it until daybreak
when there would be enough distractions
to allow us to escape—for awhile—
the darkness in our minds.

©2012 –Erthona
[

Now lookey here. We are open season for terse verse and I am terrified. I just need to know what is fact and what is not. This is dialogue for a shrink. Nothing wrong with that but a shrink I ain't....hell, I'm only an'umble crit!
convince me it's poetry and I'll be back!
Best,
good you are here again,
tectak