Internalizations of the External

 

………today I thought I could,

I really wanted to

And I almost did,

But then I hid beneath

The covers and declared

The morning lost.

 

     Midday came,

I thought of food –

Maybe a cup of tea

To wake me from my slumber,

But the kitchen seemed too distant

To venture, too cold

And far removed from warmth.

 

     I toyed with the idea of ejaculation,

The stirring in my loins -

     Rising feelings of neglect,

But my apathy,

My apathy ruled the pallid hand

That shook,

 

My books lay scattered

In the hallway as I leaked

The last of the nights alcoholic

Beverage,

     Scattered and battered,

Corners turned and coloured

From a year of sunshine that caught

The library shelf,

     And I declared to myself,

‘No more the gimp to someone else’s thoughts!’

 

     The afternoon passed so slow,

So slow I could see my hands

Reaching far into an intimate void

Of nothingness,

     And I believed I to be in a dimension

Where death never meant death;

But a workings of infinity determined

To punish.

 

     The night comes again –

And I have managed a brief sandwich,

A glass of tepid water -

Neither finished or satiated,

And I don’t believe I be

Graced with a life that matters –

And so,

     I count the pills again;

The different colours,

The different sizes and shapes –

Increasingly more interesting than

Their names – and no-ones to blame,

But if this is surviving,

If this is the status – aspiring

A recovery,

     Then maybe,

I’ll turn again to alleviate my sores,

Remain uncured and human;

And enquire again

Why death thrives and life;

Be nowhere in this dulcet mind –

And only,

     A tearful wish to

Decay into an aged corpse!

 

Michael J Waite 11th September 2015.