|
By leamas Date: 2002 Aug 15 Comment on this Work [[2002.08.15.09.14.27590]] |
|
ILLNESS I cannot feel how I feel, Can that make sense? When I take those pills-those hate filled pills-I don't feel, I know how I should feel but I can't taste my feelings on my tongue, There is no substance to my emotions, they have become a prayer to a dead god. Everything is hollow, nothing is real, just a shadow of what should be. The only true emotions are: chaos, confusion and numbness. I want to feel. It is a terrible thing to have all or nothing-a travesty. Existence becomes pointless. The fruit of life is gone. I have become a marionette-a cheap sock puppet. A filthy, dirt covered carnival toy that keeps the audience attention but scares children. I intrigue people by my sinful, fowl, soot covered life. I dance an uncoordinated jerky dance, Gyrate out of control to music no one can hear. My mouth moves out of sync to words I care not to utter. I trip on my words like a child with an oversized jump rope. The noose of my emotional panic tightens, As I try to connect with myself. My unwanted apathy chokes my soul. Regressing to the pains of childhood The sensation of a crushed chest incapacitates me. The ghost pain of someone standing on my chest appears As I blunder and stumble through my emotional junkyard. I cannot find my outlet-my medium. "God, you bastard, let me understand myself!" Release me from this prison. WHY DO YOU HATE ME!!!????? I am a captive of my own mind and my thoughts are my tormentors. Why must I hate those who are free from this anguish? I want to scream until my voice plugs every mind. I need to flog to purify, to set my soul free from this excruciating pain. Oh the pain, I will never be at peace, I despise my tortured soul, This pain is all I will ever know, This torment will drive me to my grave, This hurt will guide me to my untimely death. Exhale. |