Desolate

XX.X.MMXXV

Empty carcass

A heavy fragility of subliminal energy

Knowing my manneristic hands

Moving at such a low frequency

The opposite of numb

Uncomfortable to the bone

Tears carrying low depths of isolation

Grasping the torment of what I’ve done

Words don’t cut it

I don’t listen to music

Shut off from the world

Drenched in rain

Slow without a tortoise shell

Grief but there’s something else

My identity is fractured

Aware of you getting up for work

For school

Yet I’m hiding, buried in submission

Swords scattered on the ground

Drowning in oil

Iron bones underneath my sensitive skin

The pace of a snail

In a dark, damp cave

Apologies don’t cut it

Mere medicated survival

I only know this phase on meds

Apathy clasped,

Encompassed

A log drifting on the water

An ape caged by thick bars

The eyes just keep closing

The body bent over

Not deprived

Nor starved

Although aware of them 

Actually, pretty selfish in nature

Because I don’t even like the words

Hate the weight

Horrible state

When most wouldn’t express it

Coal in a blackout