Jaggedly, I move to and fro
my ribcage breaking, breaking, breaking.
This fresh ooze of insignificance clogs arteries,
interrupts the blood flow and constricts my
It cripples me where I stand.
My knees buckle like swollen fruit;
sickeningly fragile and weak.
I choke out tears in ripples, each fresh droplet
slinking off my face in curdled waves.
The bleakest black and the darkest dark is coming.
I can feel it quake and (pop, pop, pop)
my chest bursts open and more ooze oozes out,
scalding the floor, leaving holes in the linoleum—–
Gouging out more furrows of embarrassment.
It is depression; it is the things you never wanted
to see as a child, hibernating within yourself.
It is the amplified feeling of despair, which steals your
meals and laughter and thoughts and sleep until
you cannot move an inch from your bedroom.
It is the jagged chorus of the sternum cracking,
as you disconnect from yourself, unflinching and
Break, break, break, breaking, breaking then
(swoosh) breaking and broken.
Your body finally stops from it’s eternal shaking;
the sludge of the past sinks you deeper into it’s
snare until there is no more you nor anymore
chance to sink at sea.
You have already sunk.
You (I) have already said goodbye to yourself.
This is the unforgivable curse of feeling,
it leaves you (myself) forever (for always)