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 stop
all the cortisol thoughts
moving backward
through my veins.
Now a victim praying
for survival.
Begging,
how much longer can
this last?
It seems purgatory
comes in many forms,
but this one
will never pass.