s l o w

my consciousness sputters like a dying engine

the pulsations of my brain slowing, shaking

(muscles too slug-like to function)

 

beat, rest, beat, rest

is the tick, tick, tick of my heartbeat

(blood flow circulating, pumping, heavy with guilt)

 

a burning hunger in the pits of my gut

these insatiable cravings; i plead

for a steady grip on reality

(exhaustion mingles in my bloodstream)

 

with desolation looming

and a complete

combustion of my mind

(this volatile existence was never going to last)

 

shattered sanity strewn among the drops of carmine

heal these weakened bones, fragile stability

empty eyes, numbing pain, dizzy skull

(oh, where did the elation go)

 

what a shame, what a shame

of such a spontaneous, spiraling

loss of precious humanity

(help, my emotions are gone)

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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