I'm back at the edge again a hundred candles melted down a series of moments colliding into one another too many problems to solve to much information to sort through a growing storm I'm not sure I can survive what is forming overhead, but the clouds continue to darken waves crash below, a cycle that never ends, the ocean at my door I dream of my racing heart and guarded muscles softening, to take a deep breath, to feel without pain, to live without scarring I wish for

Historically, there was a type of human torture where a captive person was sat under an irregularly patterned continuous drip of cold water right on the top of their forehead. At first perhaps it grew frustration, until hours go by, you try to anticipate the timing of the next drip but you can't. Supposedly these individuals would lose their minds, the drops of water overwhelming their systems with stress and anxiety. Drip, drip, drip. The symptoms of the systematic systemic

It took me a slow series of movements to get up from the carpet I had laid on, face smushed into its fibers, my chest flat against the soft hard surface. Sometimes you just gotta lay on the ground and think empty thoughts. My tailbone, sacral joint? or whatever bone is right above my butt crack, is in severe pain. I have nausea, gas, bladder inflammation, clitorodynia, constipation, pelvic floor dysfunction, hydronephrosis of the right kidney flank pain, probably all caused i

I’m not a real person, not anymore my body just a vessel in constant turmoil every morning a handful of pills a carefully considered meal electrolyte drops and powders a routine of stretching or meditation all to calm the nerves my body aches in ways I can't articulate each week a new crisis, new doctor, new update to my medical forms The doctors confused always say this is alot for someone my age I never know what to respond it's been more than words can share

a case of missing identity stripped away down to joints and bones what remains overfiring nerve endings an offbeat pulse a gasp for air a shallow grave where my organs flutter struggling to do their best a brain sits atop this rustbelt city coordinating disasters, aiding decline as factory doors strain to stay open but life here wastes in decay it feasts on its own misery always wanting more of the nothing left of me for no person exists here anymore just a sack of broken mec