WITHOUT

—it’s the sensation

just before complete

deprivation when

Infinity calls—

and draws us into

her aching bossom

#DescribePhysicalPainWithoutSufferingAgonyTormentBloodBruiseCutPainStingBurnDiscomfortThrobbingPangStabCutOuchCryScream #Challenge

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

Ever present

Consistent

A constant companion

My shadow

My faithful friend

Whispering

Yelling

Slow down

Stop

While I continue

Ignore

Compete

Live

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.

Knowing you are still alive,

Feeling hurt,

Trying to survive.

The knife is drenched,

Your skin is too,

Your hand clenched.

You being to feel numb,

Smiling to yourself,

There is no longer a problem.

You know you are still alive.

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

Strolling along

Expecting smooth floor beneath your foot

And then

FLASH

A small, merciless plastic cube

Embeds in your heel

Jolting white hot panic

Through rudely awakened nerves

You fall

Or sit

Groaning

Waiting for that shrieking pulse

In your heel

To quiet

And your heart to calm

Maybe you thought you knew then

What it was to hurt

But

Have you ever

Trod on

Four-sided dice?