A memory (the moment)

Warm tears and damp skin, scattered stone and decaying teeth. Calloused hands and burnt skin. 

An aching spine after every grueling hour rotting my eyes in the stinging pale glow that my life revolves around and that I have chosen to be its child.  

All that I have been born with, all that I have been dependent on for a body. A substance that I’ve yet to understand, a foreign infection which seeps into my head and puppets my every move. The will to create, this birthright to bring life to the shrouded beasts that plague my dreams. 

Time is a broken video player, my mind catches up to the state of my body, where I am in reality, like a cold awakening of what could have been and what has transpired alerts me. 

I left myself in the ocean to find some inkling of a savior, of any glimmer of reason behind the endless horizon of blue but all I saw was my own blurred reflection. 

A horrid cycle that has worn away shreds of my confidence in my past abilities and now my speech has diluted itself to the most basic of phrases that repeat back to me. This is survival but there isn’t the thrill of being awake, I don’t feel that so much unless I consume the primal needs that oh so hurt myself, but in pain at least I feel something.