Saturday, April 22, 2006

Acid Again

I can feel my blood pumping acid again; stomach churns like all hell.

All bodily functions mobilize, panic sets in, but once controlled, the adrenaline gives strength and discipline. I go numb and need it, I need to die while bulletproof, bleeding all over, bloody heap I am.

In the past, I have spoken of my axe, swinging at full, till it is broken. Now, the same, so many injuries...

To survive is to become and live through pain. These burdens are not to be conquered; I can't escape them. Once you are pain, you no longer feel pain, and it all goes numb. It mechanizes. It galvanizes.

The axe never broke; it bounced back and injured my arms. Now I must swing again, and there's no arms to swing with. I must will them back to life--create strength from nothing, from spirit.

Now I swing that the axe will break. I swing.


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