literature

My chest bumps like a drier with shoes in it

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grew-up-a-screw-up's avatar
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Literature Text

lately i've come to feel
like a leap of days that didn't happen
nor had the right to exist,
in the first place.
i can’t help the diffraction of my
veins straining against
the sticky membrane of my skin;
as though they are trying
to reach the sky,
they splinter and groan
under the graceless movements
of my limbs.
i search for cracks beneath
the surface,
prodding and poking
trying to dissect myself with the
precision of shaky hands numbed
by alcohol and one too many painkillers;
i am the surgeon of my own disaster
attempting to reassemble
those caved in xylems.
i tried desperately to
resurrect those broken stems
i gave them a transfusion with my
own fluids
and offered up my own
trachea to try and let them breathe;
but i suppose some things,
much like people,
refuse to be
salvaged,
perhaps the dead should
remain comatose
The title is from somewhere, I've read it somewhere but I don't know where and i felt it fit.
i'm sorry if this is bad the only words i feel i can offer as of late
are "drowing" and "trapped" and "please believe me when i say im trying" and i feel
like i'm relapsing all over again but i'm really trying
© 2014 - 2024 grew-up-a-screw-up
Comments17
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masiva's avatar
Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace I believe is where the quote is from. :) Great poem.