These Thoughts Crash Like Cars
Forwards. Backwards. sideswiped, smashed. I know to not envy the passengers, but how else, save through the mind, can anyone live amid the malignancies in this place, this world and all its terrors,this life I'm surviving in, a living nightmare. So these cancerous thoughts breed amongst my thoughts like the cells that, though designed to protect life - to fight to sustain it - instead birth Death within her marrow. These cells that once grew her to maturity and heartiness have now turned against her into a ravenous plague, and I can feel the loss of my skin, the fried nerves, burning flesh and rapid decay in my own body.
It's like I was picked up out of my sophomore year of college and dropped into a horror story, and this new film started with a false escape route, but at least I felt preserved, alive - though I felt nothing at all. It was like the matrix and I was sleeping for a while, and although the happiness and fun and all things desired were fake, for a time I could be satisfied in fantasy. But fear goded me on yet, and I woke up into new terrors, my eyes wide open and the anesthesia unplugged, and I felt everything - every loss like a limb clinging to the edge of a cliff: my career, my finances, my husband, my daughter, my Health, and my confidence for a long life, a new life, a new SEASON, HOPE ITSELF- and now another threatened life - that threatened life being the very one that bore me mine, and I crumble, and I dream of plugging the anesthesia back in, but it doesn't work the same, and I get sick, and I fill with self-hatred. And the Healer I know to be real, I try to stay near him, but I falter and wonder if I will never be healed again in this life. And I feel every tear, every exposed organ, every scrape, and I scream silently, constantly, and long after I have lost the wind in my lungs to continue screaming, my mouth sits open wide and gaping, and I am still screaming. I am screaming but functioning, sobbing but Dry-faced, the perfectly made up woman I have to be. Wait why, And I am kicking and punching and biting, but I remain civilized and polite. I am dead, but I never sleep, I am awake, but I am numb to reality and detached- floating, carelessly, waiting for the next minute and hour and day, and waiting for nothing and everything, and oh, It Was Never Supposed to Be This Way.
