Friday, February 1, 2013

Now you know

It comes on slowly,
like falling asleep.
I sit and wait,
then it slowly creeps
in orange rolling heat, like a
red hot ocean wave,
spreading and lapping against the
deepest places and
against the bones.
Gnawing, biting, lashing, chasing any
hope of peace or relief
Then slowly yet suddenly
it somehow gets worse.
All breath is gone,
all explanation or reason is
and there you face it,
dead on, but you never
conquer it.
The red hot flare freezes every fiber,
and engulfs you in ice,
where you remain frozen with a
despair so deep, it's
and you know you will never escape its
scratching jaws.
The inside bleeding to relieve the
yet even then it comes, more waves of
icy heat
lapping against the soft places and slamming
into the bones.
Yelling, screaming, each cell
yet the best way for the whole to survive
is utter, deadly silence.
I face it head on and prepare myself for the
and pray and scream out to the
to help me through.
I know He is with me,
holding me up,
calming my mind to
the next one, and the next one
and the one after that.
And when I know He is
I begin to fold, and fear
I can't continue, but still the
rage comes, sharply, stinging
reminding me that I am 
here, now.
Yet threatening to end my utter
with the severity of the
orange, red, blackness
eating away.
It laps at the soft places,
tears a hole to form a nasty
oozing tumor to join
 its hundred other brothers
planting their battle tents,
riding the wave to bite
and slice
and destroy more and eat away
whats left.
And still I can't breathe, and the
severity is so great the
orange has heated to a burning
black, fierce with rage. I keep praying for the
unconsciousness to come,
but somehow mt body is too
and so I suffer the blackness,
wide awake,
eyes bulging yet seeing
The waves slap and thrash
coming, never ceasing,
never the promise of low tide.
The blackness takes over,
and I cling to
and ride the waves with
blind fear, and stalwart
And somehow I'm still breathing and still
and the orange black lava keeps
melting, enveloping, pouring
over into my soul, and the
seed is nourished by the black
This is my pain.

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