falling away.

Swallow this massive snowy pill with a full glass of water

And wait for the liquid, acid, and tablet to slish-slosh around the stomach…

Transforming into  the monster….

Pushing, pulling, twisting, turning, punching my insides…

The very medicine to make me better is slowly destroying me all the same.

I shove my fingers into my neck, feeling my weak, quick pulse.

My breath short and shallow, yawning in between because my brain can’t breathe.

Lungs trying to take in what little air they’re given…. but there’s little to have.

My head spins and my body tingles from toe to scalp.

Surely, any moment now my face will meet this red Arizona ground.

But I refuse to let it happen.
 

I am a tank.

Armored and loaded, I barrel through all that is before me, regardless of what I mutilate in the process.

But now, I’m out of ammo… and my shields are failing as my enemies start retaliating.

I’m breaking down… 

Lay a white sheet over my body and let me decide if when I can be born anew.

Because I can’t tell them how horrible I feel. 

We all know I shouldn’t be here… but if I can pretend that I’m ok… that I’m not fast approaching the rock bottom I’ve hit 

three four five times in the past year, maybe we’ll all believe I was fine to bring out here.

That I’m capable of getting over this, while masquerading that I can continue doing all as normal.

When the truth is that I’ve never been so close to smacking into the black pavement

Not to rise again.