I consume my sadness whole, trying to fill this hole
but this unholy bread will not satisfy, Devil’s cake
and so I swallow more and grind away my troubles.
I choke it down with the tears I refuse to shed
trying to drown the gnawing sensation in my gut.
My teeth rip into my misery and tear it up
into smaller bite sized portions and for a moment,
I can swallow past the lump in my throat.
But the mirror mirrors my madness and shows me
that I have only multiplied the rootless grief
and so I gorge myself on the forgotten memories
of pleasure until my stomach threatens to rupture
because if I get enough I can suffocate my pain.
I create ancient pain paintings along my arms,
scarring my skin like early man scarred cave walls
with blood, telling the story of the hunt for life.
I in script my search on my arms in jagged lines
each detailing the missing link that eludes my grasp
and so I reach down in myself to expose
the ugliness that is trapped within my skin.
I write songs of survival across my growing canvas
silent witness that demand you to listen
but somehow you are blind and cannot see me.
So I continue to write because my mouth is sealed.
I struggle, endlessly struggle to find the silver lining.
Forgetting that sunshine can only come from within.
So I cast of my shell, and suddenly I am shining.
Somehow whole, rested and perfect, without sin.