Wrested From Quintessence in POETRY
Revised: 12/30/2017 10:19 p.m.
- Dec. 30, 2017, 2:41 a.m.
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- Public
I’m seeing all these posts recently - surveys about 2017, the year summed up etc…
That’s not really my style and there’s no singular word to describe the level of Hell I have endured this year which is just the oozing puss from wounds carved open in 2016; now infected.
So here’s my year summed up. Enjoy the metaphors… or don’t, I don’t really care.
I have survived death; twice
Resurrected.
Yet I endure, not sure why, other than to advance the boundaries of suffering.
Illness stricken and injury riddled; my mental capacity is a whittled piece of wood.
Immortal black occurred in a tear-runnelled scream, and then silence, peace; it was like a dream.
Veritably - Heavenly.
Now that I’m dying and all light is grey
I feel my body rotting
My brain says: “Checkmate”.
I long to be with a love I lost to the skeletal hands of death, but a part of me resists the idea to dine with the Devil in defiance of asphyxiating breath.
Scrawny claws rape and rip at my intestine
While blood, mucous and feces even;
Permeates like venom
… … … This clostridium
… … And onerous
… Ulcerative
.Season
Treatable with insurance or financial freedom, but I have neither; just a liquidated life. Lost and sold off to pay for failure; I lay bedridden in the fetal position praying to a deaf entity.
Hand on flesh
Craving death
But it creeps ever slowly
- A tease, oh tortuous me!
Wincing and squinting with every crippling contraction only exacerbates the herniated discs in my back. Upon mangled vertebrae; Atlas himself, whom supports the weight of the world, crumbles underneath my weakened infrastructure.
Unable to die, I await a fate designed in disguise
A miscreation am I
With as much strength to faintly hold onto a knife
I hover it metaphorically
Contemplating…
… These final days - of my life.
By: Jaye Eryk
Copyright ©2017
Last updated December 30, 2017
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