feels as if bugs are crawling all over
itching, irritated, ripping holes into tanned skin
scratching all over, every inch, my body
hoping to kill them or alleviate nerves shocking
vile and hateful, my mouth, cursing at “the professionals”
they ask me dumb questions prolonging agony
broken teeth, dental work, cavities, really?
asking me such questions so inapplicable
demanding to skip the bull shit just dose me
get into a comfortable bed, wait for the effects
I want a hot shower to sooth cramping muscles
cramping stomach, intestines
stabbing my insides like I swallowed an ice-pick
(a bullet would be quicker, less expensive, more relief)
it’s finally over in six days, yes, I’ve found freedom
not shallow freedom our forefathers desired
free from myself, the hell I created, uncertain
maybe it created me and I flourished in it
thought I had angel’s wings
thought so many stupid things
some were real, none of them matter
they led me to “right now” where I need drugs
drugs to stop the sickness, the pain
mental obsessions, emotionally bankrupt
cliché as it sounds, as it is, it’s what is
cliché is my life founded on fake memories
things like hope, serenity, and forgiveness
memories that crumbled like poorly baked cornbread
now I’m corn-fed and I feel human again
©February 2010 – Tamara Nicholas
Monday, February 22, 2010
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2 comments:
I have a couple of memories like that, but I always liked cornbread and still do.
Yes. This piece is a combination of past and present circumstances. My present or the situation that inspired or fueled the initial piece which fueled the "memories" mutated with the memories and created the piece. Does that make sense? Two separate types of pain both led me to suicidal thoughts and emotional bankruptcy. Both made me want to die. One cause physical symptoms of feeling as if I was going to die and one was a lifestyle that begged death to come. Anyway, this was the end result. Thanks for reading it. It did turn out mildly entertaining (in retrospect - reading it much afterward now). Love you uncle.
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