Fourth Thursday

I don't feel so good...

like the moment before combustion
so much gathers within every vein
that blood refuses to flow.

Every vessel, capillary, artery
is filled with some feeling that turns
this skin cold and forces my blood
to settle within my feet.

My chest tightens

these words that swim through me grip
my heart and clog the veins
until my body cannot stand it...

So instead of standing, I fall to my knees

Attempt to throw up every word,
every feeling, every fear
every reservation

I have faith in this body,
believing it can dispel every shortcoming
since prayer made the words stronger.

That which does not kill me can only
make me stronger.
But if that is the case, then
say a good reason for the fact
that this symptom which refuses to kill
me makes me weaker!

Tears well up, not a single tear of
sadness but thousands of
frustrations (DAMMIT!)
which bond to water to form
some heated solution which burns
streaks down my cheeks
as they race to the ground

Another Wretch

Cough

Sputter

Wretch again, hoping that these
feelings will be released, but instead,
I get nothing.

Nothing but some spit and the realization
that my body has failed me.

With blood of malice feelings and
a face with tear-soaked burns,
I realize that every hurtful feeling
has saturated my stomach acids and
burns every inch that it touches.

A victim to the human virus,
trying my hardest to release this,
trying to live again or at least
become so numb that I can fake

like I'm feeling better