I came across this old photos of me drawing a pastel of myself. What strikes me is the power that exudes from the painting as the depth of character and emotion emerge with each additional stroke. Sometimes I like the half drawn version even more than the finished product. It tells its own story. This is my experience. PAINFUL How can I describe the stultifying ‘nothing’ in my body That keeps me trapped Away from all that I could do All that I could be All that I am? There really are no new words To convey the utter emptiness Of mind and body That I exist in. The fragmenting pain, The overwhelming numbness, The impossible effort it takes To move To think Even a single interesting thought Beyond the experience of Interminable illness That pounds at me Crushing me into the smallest space Not only in the room, But in my body. Secretly trapped in a tiny space in my head My memories are shut down to indiscernibility. My enthusiasm for life Is increasingly dulled by never ending inability. M...