Bottom Of The World

A poem about the DTs.

The sickness starts in your throat and creeps into your stomach
The sun is bright enough to blind you
You don't want to see anything anyway
It snakes through your blood, jump-starting your nerves like car batteries
Your flesh shakes and crawls over your skeleton like a lecherous priest
Your skin breaks out in goosebumps, but it's hot to the touch
Your brain screams in fear, telling tales of fevered hallucinations
Phantoms from the darkest recesses of your brain
You try to close your eyes, but the lids flutter like butterflies in a bonfire
You're lying down because you can't bear the thought of standing up
After all, where would you go?
Your mouth salivates profusely
Your hands tremble like electrocution victims
You sink deeper into the bed
You can't get any lower, but you can't stop sinking
You're so tired
You're only half awake right now
Not the good half, either
Slipping out of one nightmare and into another one
Your thoughts creep over the surface of your brain like spiders, their malignant wombs pregnant with sickness and despair and suicide jerk-off fantasies
The sun mocks you
The rest of the world laughs at you
Shadows climb the walls and flicker across your vision
The room wants to devour you and s**t you back out
Somehow, the sun keeps getting brighter
Uglier, more fearsome, showing you all the things you never wanted to see
Your heart races in your chest
Your veins scream
Your flesh weeps bitter tears
You put your hands up to the light, but they're not yours anymore
Something else is in control
You feel old and grey
Scared and exhausted
And you're still sinking
Sinking until you're beneath reality
After all, where else would you go?

Author's Note

I doubt very many people will be able to relate to this one, but I felt like writing it. So suck it.

Reviews

[patricia]

This brought back a few memories of my own. Lucky for me I discovered that alcoholism is an illness, it helped to cut myself some slack. There is a way out, it might not seem so at the moment. You cant do it on your own. Throw in the towel...sound like your rock bottom has arrived. The only way is hope. The choice is yours.
You write very well, microscopic observations covered both the physical, mental and spiritual desolation pretty well. Thanks.

[_mal]

This is really strong, shows something ugly well

[Perfect Mistake]

In my opinion i thought this was pin-pointed great. Your poem tells a story of destress and despair and seeming to never get out of that state. Reminds me of a book called "Tweak"

[Meghan]

This piece really exemplifies that gruesome feeling of detox to me. I've never had it so badly as what you've described, but I've also never used illegal substances that would cause detox. My favorite bit is, "like spiders, their malignant wombs pregnant." Dope imagery. And wow, really no pun intended. I feel ridiculous right now.

Anyway, looking at the mass of lines before reading, I thought I'd be dying for stanzas, but in this piece, the sort of run-on read definitely works. It creates that frantic, confused tone I got from it.

I think it could be tuned up, but it works the way it is. Well done.

[Marie]

Very good, as always. Actually I think many of us, to a lesser degree, can relate to this one...