Coping #7


 

the best i can describe it is something like

a tangled a mess a nest-egg of all of these–

well some people call them feelings or emotions

but that has never held any sway with me;

it goes deeper than that,

not a psychological response

or a neuron (mis)firing happily away 

somewhere in the neo-cortex or hypothalamus–

this consumes your life force,

devours your soul,

a fiery numbness that only self-destruction

can alleviate.

(It doesn’t hurt.)

I don’t feel anything at all–

there is only the angry pregnant need

to shock myself back to life 

in the most gruesome way possible.

 

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About thefreescribbler

My life is one of words. I am a scribbler, whose thoughts are best expressed through adjectives and phrases and punctuation marks. I would not go so far as to call myself a writer, although many would disagree. I’m characterized more by my unfinished works and half-embodied ideas, scraps of stories and parts of poems. Maybe one day I’ll be a writer, but I’m okay with being a scribbler right now. It fits my personality and style, and best expresses my aims. I’m not trying to create some lofty version of literature. I’m just a kid blogging about life. View all posts by thefreescribbler

3 responses to “Coping #7

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