The pain behind my eyeballs
the spike driving through the top of my head
the way my skin burns in the water
the way my skin shrinks as it dries, pulling tighter and tighter
the pain in my left eyelid
the fact that typing is difficult because my hands hurt so much
the pain running from my right elbow to the ring/pinky fingers in my right hand
the pain in both of my lower legs
the pain in my lower back
the stiffness in my hips as I walk
my aching toes and my tingling feet
MY SKIN
the way my mind sometimes refuses to work
and the way my mind sometimes refuses to stop working
the pain
the heartache
the loss
Danielle & Tara
I miss you guys
cats on counters
cats on tables with food
cats in beds
the way that anything that makes contact with my lower legs creates a sore
my inability to secure a living
my sudden dependence on others
my wanton desires
the way I do things to excess
my poisoned mind
the fact that I have failed twice to end it
my feelings for others well being
chunks of my ears falling off
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Waiting to Die
I have a terminal disease. It is called "Life."
Better put, "Life without Purpose."
With no young to care for, the hope that progeny creates does not exist for me.
Existence absent purpose is not an existence worth living.
And so I wait.
My sister gone. (age 31)
One of my closest friends gone. (age 41)
Both leave behind life that needed them.
A daughter without a mother.
Sons without a mother.
It is senseless, or at the very least, incomprehensible.
And yet I muddle on.
Poisoned mind.
Poisoned body.
Still holding onto life.
But a life without value.
A life without purpose.
Nothing (back) to hold onto.
Nothing (forward) to hope for.
I wish the end would come for me.
I wish it would be soon.
But soon is not soon enough.
Skin falling off more rapidly now.
Joints again refusing to move.
Pain in head.
My joys? Tied to the make believe.
Tied to sensory delights limited (mostly) to eating.
Why won't the end come?
Suffering needlessly.
To what end?
Better to be memorialized as people's opinions seem to improve.
The reality is forgotten.
Let it be soon.
Better put, "Life without Purpose."
With no young to care for, the hope that progeny creates does not exist for me.
Existence absent purpose is not an existence worth living.
And so I wait.
My sister gone. (age 31)
One of my closest friends gone. (age 41)
Both leave behind life that needed them.
A daughter without a mother.
Sons without a mother.
It is senseless, or at the very least, incomprehensible.
And yet I muddle on.
Poisoned mind.
Poisoned body.
Still holding onto life.
But a life without value.
A life without purpose.
Nothing (back) to hold onto.
Nothing (forward) to hope for.
I wish the end would come for me.
I wish it would be soon.
But soon is not soon enough.
Skin falling off more rapidly now.
Joints again refusing to move.
Pain in head.
My joys? Tied to the make believe.
Tied to sensory delights limited (mostly) to eating.
Why won't the end come?
Suffering needlessly.
To what end?
Better to be memorialized as people's opinions seem to improve.
The reality is forgotten.
Let it be soon.
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