You have had your instincts torn from flesh.

You have had your insight shaded from truth.

You have had your trust tied in chains.

You have had your faith hung up to die.

It hurts.

It bleeds from the contaminated cells of your gut.

It multiplies, germ by germ, until the disease is rotting

Layers beneath the organ of anxiety,

Trapping the sensation of suffocation within the cavity of pain.

You feel loss.

You feel absence.

You feel a void.

You feel alone.

Exhaustion breeds upon itself, within itself,

Raping each and every inhalation of life you struggle to capture.

Sadness cradles the victim, wrapping your soul in darkness

To protect you from the symptoms of an enlightened emotion.

The violent attack on your integrity allows your pride

To growl and glare into the face of intellect

And devour the very words that are intended to heal.

You seek a cure in the muddled medicine of thought,

Yet the disease has set deep, allowing only for a deprived state

Of recuperation to be your comfort.

You cleanse.

You disinfect,

With tears of defence,

Released from the cancerous growth imbedded in your memory.

Your tears flow with nuclear power and your

Vulnerability is evaporated into a cloud of acid.

Molten asbestos runs like lava through your veins,

Threatening your fragile existence,

Drowning your hope in ash.

A single voice prevails, above the logic of reason,

Beyond the constraints of logic.

A pill of health,

A band-aid in the battlefields of hell.

A faint recording of it’s grinding texture

Rotates amidst your collective self punishment,

Resonates beyond the torture of guilt.

You listen.

You doubt.

You adore.

You succumb.