This gnawing burning squiggle of an emotion that streams through insipidness; speaks in the space where my gut meets the churning locket of despair.
Alone, I reach for connection through the waves of impersonal electronic communication. Dopamine receptors fired to the infinite oblivion of overwhelming noise and nothingness.
I desire nothing for nothing is within me.
Face to the dark shadows that sketch across the lighting-ridden pox of the last gasps of a twenty-four hour groundhog, snarling as it beckons me towards the pills in my cupboard, the knife in my kitchen, the rope on shelf.
Curling round the edge of my tongue – beyond articulation – is a feeling, sensation, emotion; no name, no role, no place.
Wrestling, thrashing, crumbling all resistance within me until I feel the last drop of fight ebb away from the bones in my body that growls for safe passage.
Howling against the floorboards that trap me, I scream into the night and listen to the transient echoesā primitive call to arms.
Forsaken at the dawn, bloodshot eyes, I stumble to the foot of the mountain where I find the cruel and unforgiving majestic rocks. I lay down at the mouth of the king and beg, seeking respite; swallowing mercy; clawing comfort.
Finding none I fling myself forward, glancing backwards at the world that was once mine.
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Poetry from the ashes of consciousness
By a fellow pilgrim
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