The small cut sits there
pulling at my pain
The tears fall
pulling at my heartstrings
and there is so much more to suffer
as I pull at the symptoms,
the useless situation, I am helpless, help me, but help cannot fix
what my body has come to be

My body is weary from the aching times that makes me feel like a burden.
My head feels great weight.

My throat constantly sores from screaming my lungs out just to reach out.
My voice has run dry.

My skin sense a scorching sun from within that it aches my insides.
I could see the pain.

But I know it's not the virus.

Symptoms?
Heart is racing!
Chest is aching!
Pits are sweating!
Hands are shaking!
Breath is heaving!
World is swaying!

Diagnosis?
Love.

"love-sick"
I mean
I suppose love is a disease.

there are the symptoms,
the racing heart
constant thoughts,
and if your a writer
countless poems dedicated to them
or your love.

I suppose love is a disease
but if its you,
its not one I would mine
having.

Addiction comes again,
Cogitation fuels the yearner,
A soaked rag petting skin
As a bellow stokes ember.

Endorphins, tastes tripping on the tongue
Just a little,
Wet lips cracking with electric spume
For a piffling sip of ambrosia.

Want needs emptiness
When it is full of gluttony.
A ***** drop falls
rippling in the blood of energy.

Racing, flipping, falling through pages to the darker side of your emotions and it eats away at the better part of yourself until you're all but sand.

Sand left desiccated and burning
for a cold withdrawal of the tide.

Bloodshot eyes
Pumped up veins
Clustering lung
And a mind that drains
Are all the symptoms of you
That I try to chain
.
.
.
Mehek

at 4 A.M.
you do these things
they become habit
eating in the middle of the night
waking up as routine
contemplating your plight
contemplation
of you
what you do
in the middle of the night
is that really you
or a symptom
or side effect
did you choose the road here
or is it a neurological pathway
a chemical imbalance
a plaque to your horror
at 4A.M.
contemplating
taking things apart
or are they
taking
apart
you

cold sweat
feet tingling
blood rushing
heart pulsing

away
from
the
terrors
within

fitful, but not fulfilling
shadows prowl through my mind
failed attempts to cast doubt
into the farthest reaches

nevertheless

hairs stand on end
soldiers awaiting a threat not realized
goosebumps appear on the skin--
landmines that have risen from hell
I brace myself for the war

that never comes

as my eyes snap open
awakening from a slumber
that was

alas--
just a nightmare