this incessant throbbing

antibiotics and witchcraft coursing through my cheeks

i curse the pollen

a pox upon nature herself

these microscopic indulgences that feast on torment

rendering innocence into half formed photographs of insolent rage

i begged for sleep and the inner cacophony chose to warble dulcet tones of stabbing across my prone form

this half awake life is not for the living at all

just another pamphlet for help tossed upon the flames of distress

i hear it

you know

the patter of rain upon the rooftops of the city

the skies are clear but the rains

the rains are immune

the engorged blood moon wreaks havok upon the tides

crashing in endless fury against the stones

chipping away until all that stands is illusionary rememberance

her spirit ripples across my sleeping body

phantom fingers running the length of my torso

slipping between the ribs

grasping my heart like a bird in a cage

fluttering sighs come out as steam from my open mouth in the now chilled room

this infection as her hand brushes my cheek as we drift away

together

once again

but no

the awake part of my mind screams in defiance

she is not here

her hands caressing another

her eyes staring in longing into another’s vacant face

and the throbbing

the undulating agony

this sinus infraction

infection

possession

a symptom of incarceration

self immolation

indulgence and indignity

i tried to stop and smell the flowers

take a moment for healthy self refraction

reflection

rejection

retraction

remorse

wrangling wild horses with guile and charm

and it left me with this hole the size of her lying next to me

a pit in my stomach

a burning

a yearning

a need

for sleep

for relief

for one more intoxicating moment of sheer joy

and all i have is this sinking feeling in the very core of who i once wished i could be

a rampant state of inexhaustible exhaustion

an empty bottle of pills

a heavy heart

and that desolate feeling only the truly alone resonate to

like the tingling of a lost limb

she is my phantom itch

i am

i am

the sum of all my fears and failings

a hodge podge of grandiose triviality

the poor man’s version of myself

railing against inconsequentiality

i am the wave

i am the stone

i am

nothing

the blood moon calls and i am not strong enough to ignore it’s call