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.



tethered to a mind

that cannot find

refuge from itself. 


Unable to stop

all the cortisol thoughts

moving backward 

through my veins. 


Now a victim praying

for survival.  


how much longer can

this last?


It seems purgatory 

comes in many forms,

but this one 

will never pass.