Existence

Written in my darker days but nevertheless, still relevant.

It starts in your stomach;

burning, ripping, pulsating.

It journeys through your veins,

into your heart;

shredding, shrinking, sinking.

It spreads to your muscles;

aching, weakening, numbing.

It crawls through your throat;

tightening, trapping, suffocating.

Stealing your breath, you stifle a cry;

whimpering, weeping, sobbing.

It invades your thoughts;

whispering, tempting, taunting.

You try to run, try to hide

But it grasps you so tightly,

you can’t escape and in time,

You don’t want to escape.

You stop fighting.

It becomes familiar.

It becomes an ally.

It becomes normal.

It becomes a way of life.

You want it,

no.

You need it.

Consistent, interminable, predictable pain,

A depraved, masochistic ritual;

it's the only thing that assures you that your still breathing

But ask yourself

Is this life?

Or simply an existence?

 

 

Author's Note

Don't be too harsh, I wrote it years ago, didn't want to 'improve' or edit it because it was how I felt at the time.

Reviews

[Victoria Scott]

man....that does not need to be edited...its true...some people only live in the shells we call their bodies without even living on the inside...I think this poem captures that perfectly :)