#self-attack

It’s great when the eye continues to be red for a day and a half, as if the extra couple hours of sleep you gave yourself were poisonous.

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All is Forgiven: Jesus in his own words with Paul West

With a leadened core I stumble and There is silence and too much space, though I suffocate.  The cavern encloses. I feel its dank, unforgiving walls Ripping into my face like a guard. I'm sorry I'm sorry please just listen. This stomach churns at my own detestable weakness. Listen.  Listen.  LISTEN! It's another voice to pretend to block out But I never can.  I hear you and me and them.  I remember Like a lightning-struck branch. I've become the slimy keeper of this cave.  Left to ponder Every snarl, every fear-laden bite that I bestowed With only the purest of instincts.  Now What am I? A parasite? An overexerted, over-aggravated animal, nothing but Claws and teeth and fury? The underfoot, sniveling worm? A master marionette puppeteer? A vengeful weasel? I don't know.  I feel you don't, either. Yet here we are. Forbidden, disenchanted, starving For any means of light. I hug these imprisoning, dirty walls, hope For warmth from within and Wrap my dead hands around my neck When there is none. I am a hair Brushed away from time's cheek and You are still nothing. Nothing. Noth i  n   g. Written 10/27/10, © Kar-Leigh Kelso  

I am smothered. A knotted cord coils itself around my neck and drags me down. Down, down. Past bones the colour of moonlight, and the beetles and rats and earwigs that picked them clean. Down, down. Through the dirt and the filth and the decay to caverns where no warmth or light can seep through. My land of euphoria, of possibility: Nothing more than catacombs of old faces and gunshots and lost love and a hated gymnasium and sharks; torn away happiness and clawing for light and Slipping away. I can't punch through anything but molasses and can't live anything but lungs grown too close to my ribs and a pulse hammering to breaking point. I get cold.  So cold. I panic and hurtle straight into the waiting jaws of something so mindlessly horrific that I can never see it, but I feel it even in my waking hours. Written 05/06/09, © Kar-Leigh Kelso