It’s on my mind and in my mind from the first thought when I awaken to the last moment before the sedatives kick in to draw me to a fitful sleep. Most of the time the gnawing is there too, as some dark entity bent on not my destruction- as it very well knows I crave- but my torment. They say I should not be overtaken by this constant suffocation, and I am not by the account of mechanical compliance and routine. Company in this midst is a futile endeavor. But I still hear it and feel it every second in between. Nothing can drown out the screaming fact in my head that it’s been another few years since I set out on another vain quest to find a new bandaid for my gunshot wound, or something to serve as a replacement for coping mechanisms cruelly rendered useless by the penetrating eyes of time. By which every safe place, every drug, and every blood sacrifice expires in its use and I stand where I started years ago, but with extra burdens that all add up in a manner I cannot- nor care to articulate to anyone at all.
Everyone says there’s no such thing as a problem without answers- even if the answer lies in the serenity of acceptance and a kind of denial. Yet for a struggle I’ve heard not another having dealt with, I have tried and done to such extreme lengths what no other I have ever heard has done. But it fails and fails again, and laden in so much shame I could never tell anyone the true depths to which this problem lies as a slow death sentence to me only metaphorically and spiritually, for I was not granted the favor of death- though against all odds, few can explain how I still stand having foolishly put myself through such rigorous abuse in my pursuit of relief for solely the present day. I have become what I never could have imagined, compromised in the ways I thought was only of the weakest, most ignoble souls, and have accumulated the ever increasing debt of my decisions I thought were best at the time.
They say I am had by a devil, but I don’t know how much it really concerns me in the given circumstances. I neither believe the lies of shadows that death is the end of this suffering; even I know better. That would be far too easy. Angels and demons, but I know only one and of which is no light felt. Thousands of swift years and they’ve all plenty knowledge of feeling trapped as well- this we share in common perhaps. For it most often has appeared that the laws of nature have bent themselves to oppose against all reason.
Thusly, In the time between reconciling all of these; I leave my marks, never in knowledge of if I will return.