AC (12-16-1981 DOD: everyday / )

Crawling In My Skin: The Eternal Itch

I take sleeping pills
to anoint the ache,
stay awake long enough
to feel myself float
out of mind- nirvana in a bottle.

Blessed are the forgotten and
holy are the gods
who are able to forsake them.

I read a book of poetry
it makes no sense, except
to my other self-
this lady who writes of ache and madness
is my sister-
she is the mother of all sadness.
I feel for her,
because I've grown numb
to my own emotions-
a way of survival.

They tell me:
if the depression doesn't cease soon,
I should seek counsel-
I think:
if the sorrow keeps on arresting my stability
I will seek refuge in silence,
shout out the voices of reason and cling
to the ones inside my head...

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Comments (1)

An intense journey into inner turmoil.