( Part 1) Weaved into the Disease

Tonight I wake as I do every other. In pools of sweat and tears intermingling with the rapid beat of my heart, my head on run. These nightmares crept in carried from this day, this ever repeating same day.

In pools of sweat and panic. There will be no tears as they are only for game time. When the possibility of money runs dry and the kick fixes to dismantle, disengage the world around.

Be the pupils pinned or so huge they swallow all the color.
The moans play silently through the passing of another sleepless night trapped in this one thought of…

So alone.


All the same, different places, different times.
Looking to the sky thinking that it holds an answer.

Death seems to rule the mind just as easily as arrogance dismissing any possibility of.
As control grips too tight and we think (maybe that is the biggest problem).
Think all too dementedly that we have control over anyone but ourselves.
Think that we are greater than the power of the…

Realistically we look around at the rollercoaster we get off and on at the speed of light playing the scenarios over in our head.
Maybe they aren’t copping…
Maybe the dealer will help me out one more time…

Over and over, again…

As the elephants dance in pairs, invisibly crowding out all space in the room.
Spending the days tiptoeing on eggshells, dismissing the need for boundaries.
Hiding behind that façade as any embrace further destroys.

All there is, is the death. Breathing means much of nothing stuck in the same repeating rhyme.
Winding slowly down to an end.
More so a wish this would end.

 
She so wants to just confront him, to show her love, but that might produce another beating.
As she so needs to feel him but hates that there is nothing there, devoid.

He so wants out, but doesn’t know any other life than this and that scares him more than losing everything. Because this he understands, he is good at.

And he so hates every inch of what he became and pushes each and every person away so he can use that as the best reason, more so excuse.

See no one cares, no one is left, no one gives a damn or understands.

So why shouldn’t I stick this needle in my arm and maybe one day my dream will come true. I will be pulled from this life and made to lay dead in a pool of my own vomit. I am worth nothing more in my eyes.

Why should I care about myself, him or the kids or anything because can’t you see what he did to me, what he made me?


Welcome to the disease.