Oh that feels great
a spark of lightning bolts in a concentrated area.
numb at first, but then alive with sharp pricks of red-hot flames,
and numb again, at least for some,
it comes and goes for some,
or it could be constantly there,
-the lightning bolts and red-hot flames,
never ending, interrupting life,
a slight dull thought in the back of your head,
but within a second,
it explodes like a grenade,
sending off alarms in your head,
making your eyes water and teeth clamp,
if it's in your leg, you could fall over
and cause more flames,
and the worse it gets,
those red flames turn to white,
escalating so much you could pass out,
but in reality, it's just a feeling of heat,
that can make you fuzzy in the head,
and distress about unimportant matters
Living In Constant Turmoil
Shrieking, incessant, dibilitating,
and with no explanation.
Long nights of restlessness,
sharpness, a genuine cluster of shooting stars.
Nothing can relieve this constant turmoil,
even fatigue holds no remorse.
There are days and nights,
when they are one long period of madness.
Nothing can be done,
but to live with this angst.
Pins and needles are stabbing my spine.
My ears are ringing but I will be fine.
Flesh eating bacteria is gnawing at me.
There’s salt in my eyes so I cannot see.
My head is being beaten with a brick.
And in my anus there is a spiky stick.
I cannot breath my airway is thinning
But through all of this, I am still winning.
Sounds become a buzz in the ear
A room that holds no air
Gasping for a breath
But it evades the senses
A mind that has lost its reason
Encompassed completely with suffocation
The heart churning inside
Beating so fast as if it would explode
Lungs striving for air
As if a thousand breaths would not be enough
Limbs shaking so bad
They just might cumble at any moment
Eyes filled with a torrent of fluid
Even now it might wreak havoc
Body now so weak as if a hundred years old
Such that it was a slave to that something
That no one can ever grab or hold.
It seemed to course through me like a virus, spreading non stop. Every inch, every second opened something up in me. The brooding feeling that was now affecting my every move. I didn't want to wake up. I didn't want to see the red that sped down my wrist as if it were a water fall. I didn't want to look at the razor blade that I heald in my hand. I just wanted to let go. Let it all come. Let me die. Let me die. But I couldn't. Not today. Not here. It was all to much, to soon. The feeling of heat leaving your body and something much worse becoming much stronger. Much, much stronger.
Falling off my bike, slicing off my finger, breaking my hand, could not compare. Nothing could compare. I was not ready. I thought it would be easy, fast even. But I was wrong. So very wrong.
Uncomfortable. Rage. Helpless.
The feelings course through me as I watch people I love face internal demons, their own bodies repeatedly betraying them. I watch as a spasm crosses my father's face, as he tries to hide the involuntary twitch of his leg. His expression forcibly smoothed, a brief grimace forced into a smile. After so many years, he's not blind to the uncomfortable expressions on others faces, their poorly shielded pity obvious as their eyes dart around the room. I stare back, keeping the biting edge of my anger quelled beneath a reassuring smile of my own. Accustomed to watching one thing after another attempt to eat at my father's determination.
Acceptance is not always the antidote to rage.
Maybe you thought it couldn’t get worse
Than stepping on a Lego
Expecting smooth floor beneath your foot
A small, merciless plastic cube
Embeds in your heel
Jolting white hot panic
Through rudely awakened nerves
Waiting for that shrieking pulse
In your heel
And your heart to calm
Maybe you thought you knew then
What it was to hurt
Have you ever