Body of Turmoil

This was written to cope with another bad morning but the story it tells is pure fiction

Awakened by a jolt, pain boils inside,

Rage pummels, seeking freedom,

Screams, bursting from my soul,

I curse at this body of turmoil.

Alone with my thoughts I seethe,

Staring at the ceiling, wanting to die,

Waiting for the conflagration,

For flames to purge my existence.

Self pity. Despair!

Self loathing. Hatred!!

Self indignation. Outrage!!!

An unrelenting wrath lusting for havoc.

I can feel the evil seeping from my pores,

Coating my skin in swirling dark crude,

I have become an abomination,

No mercy. No kindness. No love.

Rising like the undead, staggering,

Lurching, hungering to take a bite,

Ignoring my horrid reflected image,

Evacuating my empty stomach into porcelain.

I discard my sweat soaked clothes,

Begging hot soapy water for relief,

In the spray and steam, camouflaged tears,

Disgusted at my emotional nakedness.

A haphazard attempt at drying off,

Unable to meet my eyes in the mirror,

I open the cabinet, finding a bottle of help,

Its rattle imparting a chill upon me.

Still dripping, I shuffle to the kitchen,

Looking for a glass, I find a bottle first,

Dumping out a handful of white pebbles,

Beacons to my inner storm.

Choking down bitter pills with booze,

Striving to feel different, a hint of numb,

The shower, an ineffective cleanse,

As is the pharmacopoeia.

I drag my hopeless a*s back to bed,

A clean body collapsing on unclean sheets,

Not caring, only wanting sweet oblivion,

To sleep a sleep of forever.