Over and Over and Over and Over.

It’s difficult to capture feelings
when it seems
you feel nothing at all
when you would rather disappear
than continue facing
the heartbreaking anguish
every moment brings
even though
a far off voice
is reminding you
it’s all untruths
but drowned out
by the roar
of illness-borne insanity.

What if I stopped caring for myself
forget the carefully balanced diet
steady splashes of alcohol instead
or sample something stronger
for the relief of numbness
and any break from my thoughts
seems worthwhile
but I know
(from experience)
the consequences of those actions
are worse than the present –
longer recovery
lingering side effects
toxic attack of this temple
wreaks terrible damage.

So once again
I am nothing
I can’t even break down properly
self preservation instincts
sensibleness
conspire to control me
sustain and retain me
for better or for worse
and I think
(as I always do)
that writing
is the only thing
that gets me through.

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