Housing ill and sick tree limbs
I am so sick of being sick, of being ill, of feeling my mind curl into a diseased circle of flesh. I am so tired of images that make me feel at odds with my form.
I am at odds with the sun, with light in general. If I step outside, I sense my fingers curl into fists, with which I could shake at the sky. Why are you still bright? When people are failing. Everyone I love has failed. Been failed.
He lost his mind. Not over my crap face but over his crap emotions and crap nerve endings. He lost his mind and then deposited his life, in my arms. A shaking stillborn, his eyes closing [when will this image haunt me, his death, instead of the life he would have had if he were well?], my tender side closed in time. His lashes met, so did my wits. Instead of fighting, they resolved to keep me safe and sane. Linked arms, like bars, kept emotion out of a situation I should have/could have/will have presence over.
I am now allowed to throw myself to the feet of passersby, howl at a ceiling of stars, curse two names, two faces. I am allowed to question a God, whichever one I want. I am allowed to stop eating, eat too much, drink too much, pass out on the floor of my kitchen. I am allowed to live in squalor, drink tepid water from day old glasses.
But I don’t want to do this. I want everyone to stop treating me as something damaged, or fragile. My shoulders remain broad, my face round, my manner deliberate. I am still the strongest person I believe I can be, and still class myself as stronger than most [this is me at my most arrogant].
I wish I had not told you. I wish I had not told any of you. But I keep on telling, it falls out of my mouth like a pearl I keep on trying to hide in the lining of my gums. It may be my sub conscious urging me to recognise. Find fault in the way I am ‘handling’ things. I can feel it coming. This swell, almost pleasurable. I know I will throw myself in front of a train, someday soon.
Each day I feel the soles of my feet warming.
I can see the fire, less than three weeks away, I’d say.