Finally a new poem: ‘Everything is Crashing’

 


Right now my creativity had been further stripped away from me. I cannot draw pastels. I cannot think in pros or write imaginary stories. I cannot read. I cannot remember much if what I do, think or knew. But today I managed to write a poem.

Everything is crashing

Everything clashing

Everything clanging

Around and about and within me

Creating a huge

Insurmountable wall

Of vast ever increasing  proportion

That builds 

Between me and you

Between me

And everything.

The throbbing in my body

Is raging 

Louder and louder

It shouts inside me.

“Why are you shouting,” you ask?

I am shouting

Because the sound inside me is so loud

So huge

So vast

It is drowning out everything quiet

Everything peaceful

Everything hopeful

Everything that might,

Just for a glimmer of a moment,

Have been possible.

All gone in a tsunami of pain

Hurled at me

On multiple levels,

Washing away all that is good.

Anything kind

Anything beautiful in me

Is crushed

And subsided.

I am gone.

I am listing in a tortured chaos

That rocks me from side to side

And swirls me round 

in ever downward circles and spirals

That negate me further

With each turn.

I am crushed by the slightest insignificant sound

As well as the ravaging repetitive agonies 

unleashed upon me from the wider world 

about me.

I can no longer stand.

I can no longer sit.

I am prostrated by paralysis.

Lying down only intensifies the suffering, 

yet here it is.

It has engulfed me yet again

As the throbbing, drubbing sound implodes in my head

and torments my limbs, 

my body,

my mind 

As my thoughts and memories are brutally ripped away.

Nothing is untouched by this decimating disease

That is so hard to describe

So hard to bear

So hard 

To remain even a shred of myself within.


November 14 2024


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