THIS icy cold water sort of, almost helps
but my throat is still thick, hot, and dry
caked and clogged, choking on nicotine phlegm
and oh God, how I long to just be high...

MY skull's a million pounds; head, so heavy
suffocated with thoughts, swarming, squirming, zipping around
my consciousness' holding capacity is entirely used up, one-hundred-ten percent spent
it's matter-less though, as I've nothing left waiting out there to be found...

CRACKLING, pop-popping~ there's a ringing in my ears
and I'm nauseous, my stomach aches and aches
I can feel my face, squished and crying, though I haven't any tears
my spirit feels on the verge of a complete and massive break...

I"M overwhelmed and broken~ too much, the physical hurting
I'm psychotic, shattered and scattered~ ugly emotional and mental pains
what if I'm destined to never find a cure that would make this sickness end?
and what if I can't, either, find a way to save the little left in me that's sane...?

HOW can this filth and destruction only be seen through my eyes?
perhaps I'm delusional beyond reason, perhaps nowhere, only inside my head?
am I possessed of an illness, hideous and wicked, hiding deep inside my soul?
should I relinquish this breathing now; maybe just be better off dead...???

OR maybe I should merely write another of my nonsensical, depressing poems?
in a fantasy world where there's truth to the notion that words can heal diseases such as mine
is there any purpose or point? - do I even have any strength to hold on to a fragment, so delicate, of hope?
how sure, how certain can I be, that, in my continuance of life, the days will always pass with, still, nothing left for me to find.......???