How many marbles can you fit into a bowl until you say you can't count them?

I do not want events layered upon events.
Birthdays toppling over birthdays:
a layer cake of responsibilities that aren't 'responsibilities'.
That do not count.
That cannot be measured or described as taxing or numerous.
I am outnumbered by numberless nonsense.
I am outweighed by weightless wafting pleasantries;
and opportunities;
and life-sustaining things;
that bowl me over.

My womb is a desert called Death Valley and you wish to comb it for antique glass bottles.
I care not.
I cannot partake in any more suggestions of what I might do with my 'free time'.

But you're not feeling the tingling sensation in your gut every time you wake up and the lights don't turn on.
The wheels don't work.
The mechanical arms don't move like they are supposed to.
Like the parts of you you're supposed to have on automatic have just given up the ghost and abandoned you.
You're alone and miserable and none of it rings any bells.
None of it gives out any signs.
None of it counts.

I'm crying because the milk spilled and there isn't any milk left anywhere in the world.
We're out.
We're just the land of Honey now.

I feel like I'm just watching life,
Like an ocean trapped within a picture frame.
Then, there are those sometimes
When the sea breaks free of its frame
And swallows me whole.

how can you miss someone that you haven't met?

How
did you manage to get all of what you wanted
when all you wanted while you were with me,
was to do nothing.

The creature touched my temple
I felt my brain melt and bubble
I felt it dribble out of my ears and down my neck
burning down my spine
The creature made seven neat slits on the sides my upper chest
it had a habit of reopening wounds and slicing up old scars
With long fingers, the creature cut my ribs and picked them off my sternum
it slid out each spilt bone one at a time
it did it slowly, to make sure I could feel my unsupported flesh slap against my defenceless organs, enveloping them, suffocating them
seconds seemed to break down into a million fractions
the creature would only slide my ribs back and rejoin them once it sensed my heart stutter near to a stop.

As the creature retreated, my liquid brain solidified
what was left in my skull, ached and felt toxic
my legs shook and wobbled a few steps
my chest heaved, reopening my lungs, greedily taking in air as I lent against the cold wall
"Please mind the gap between the train and the platform."

and if I am allowed
might I say
it's becoming too much.
Every aching day,
I search for reasons to keep going
but my dear, you cannot see
the despair engulfing my soul.

It hurts.
Dear god, it hurts.

No thought not turned over;
no mistake not reprimanded a hundred
thousand godforsaken times.

It is all simply too much.

(d.d.b)

My legs
can't lift the weight of my body
for there are ropes
wrapped around my feet
holding them to the ground,
trying to pull them down deep.

And my shoulders
hang low
because the weight upon my head
and my chest
keeps me closer to the ground
where hell is found.

And my eyes
are sinking in
because of the weights placed in their sockets
to keep any smiles from popping
onto my lips.

I'm trying to survive my own apocalypse
but every day
more weight is added.
to my head,
my chest,
my eyes.
And I'm afraid it will be my demise.

Getting closer and closer
to the ground,
I'll be in hell now,
or maybe somewhere in between.

I am a snow ball
Melting into a liquid puddle
Evaporating
Disappearing
By the thirsty air feeding on me

© Jl 2016