Being ill is, above all
a sensual thing.
Being reminded of your own mortality,
like never before,
of the reflexes that died in my womb.
It was a dreadful lesson that I've learnt.
I tended to my body
like a lover,
promising in blind faith
that all will be well.

Such luxurious peace—
It was very much like getting possessed, you know
Becoming painfully aware of nothing
but yourself crooked in a crouch
is the only way to stand,
for it is too laborious even to stand straight.
And the noise,
the constant thumping of the heart.
pulsations bleeching
too much, too loud.

What do I know of health before this?
Now it begs my attention like a serpent's hiss.
Dissolving all but sense and solitude,
gripping
me into the lore of pure consciousness.
Like a true predator,
languishing
over yet another sleepless night.

They say the ***** in the armor is the greatest weakness
But there is no ***** when there is no armor

They say the bigger they, are the harder they fall
But you can't fall if you were never standing

They say that to beat a wall you need to find the loose brick
But if there is no wall it'll never be broken down

Being scared of vulnerability is giving yourself a vulnerability in the first place

The tears are backed up so much
I wish they’d come
I wish they’d run
And finally get all of my emotions to out of my headspace

A shell that’s almost numb
Run down from the lifelong fight
Often feeling dumb
And always in fight or flight

A father whom is barely home
A mother whom I only know over the phone
Ever since the last one left
I’ve been living in a basically broken home

Night after night
Day after day
I still feel the same pain
And still comes the same rain

Suicidal contemplation's
Consumed by anxious thoughts
Filled with my worst fears
And followed by my vulnerabilities and desperate actions

An emotionally unstable demon
One whom tries to be happy
But is beaten down every time
And left alone in his own minds creation of purgatory