Dry Heat; A poem written as I began to come out of a 2 year long deep depression

8/24/98 Dry Heat in that location is a brick in the middle of my head It imposes a eonian dread The brick changes discolour at unpredictable times sometimes red, sometimes green, and sometimes its etiolated hot and the light comes forbidden of my eyes and mouth and ass I float The brick appeared I dont know when its so much a part of me I happen it must always shed been This brick, it is present sometimes it is subtle and hard to detect, at others it overwhelms, Stopping all theory and action, taking away the will to live Thoughts can non baby my judgement the brick intercepts them They disappear into a black hole This hole is in the brick, which is in my head I think the brick is made of glide by It is so heavy sometimes I fall to my knees sometimes the brick feels bigger than my head though I know it is deep down My head wants to explode at these times I hatred the brick I have no selfhood, I do not exist, I am just a meat wight Thoughts of suicide come over again and again. How long originally my body is found? Will I malodor up the place? Should I go out care microphone? Where will I get the morphine? Recently the brick has interpreted to keeping me home from spirt.

Its weird, Ill be ok until its time for field then the pounding begins and it gets progressively worse until I watchword in, then sudden relief and a feeling of guilt. I am so fucking broken now, all my paranoiac fantasies came true. Death is the only(prenominal) thing I can think of forcing me to hardihood my cowardice, thereof making everything more painful. Well there is the downwardly spiral again. What c olor is the brick then?... ! If you want to get a full essay, shape it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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