A pit in my body,

my flesh becomes fruit.

 

Unable to remove

the beating heart

in my stomach,

the churning ocean

of bitter waste — 

a chemical concoction

that overtakes.

 

Breathless,

tethered to a mind

that cannot find

refuge from itself. 

 

Unable to separate

All the cortisol thoughts

moving backward 

through my veins. 

 

Now a victim praying

for survival.  

Begging, 

how much longer can

this last?

 

Purgatory 

comes in many forms,

but this one 

will never pass. 

GAD

Northbrook, IL

(847) 987-0136

samlasky1@gmail.com

©2020 by Life of a Wallflower.