No more time for pain.
Tear stains.
Or sobs.
Shrieks at the top of your lungs!
Frustrated fidgeting,
Or furious dialect.
The true depths of sorrow,
unreached yet,
Shall remain unexplored.

The heights of fury and rage,
Shall be another days venture.
(Or hopefully never).

Visions of disliked visages,
Traitorous touches torturing the thoughts,
Lustily leaving lover and friend
Twitching,
Writhing,
Boiling,
Melting,
Rotting,
And congealing into a puddle of humanity
at the knowledge of their philandering.  

Numbness sinks through the dermis,
Hiding hints of heartbeats,
Silencing skins sweet sensations.
Breathing,
But barely.

No time for sensation,
Emotion,
Expression,
Interest,
Thought,
Muttering,
Mentioning,
M­urmuring,
Meditating.

Reform some semblance of humanity.
No time for languishing,
Luridly,
Lethargically,
Liquefying.

Only enough time for a little poetry.
And then,
Hopefully,
Life.