Heat rises in a corner of my mind to blind
and numb senses once cool and coherent.
Thoughts race in a twisted arc now spent
on the floor my creativity like old fat rind
on a butcher’s bloody floorboards.
Objectives crease my scalp with bitter line
while obstacles pierce my soul with cutting
sharpness blighting my resolve, shutting
down my reason to a thread so brittle fine,
holding me back with spiteful cords.
Energy fades, a setting sun in deep winter,
and I choke on bile drawn up from a well
of dark despair where demons only dwell
to hack and cut me, smash me to splinter
under their dull flashing swords.
But lie cadaver still, and breath, breath slow
letting fresh clean air creep through my veins
like melt water washing winter’s ice, the pains
of biting frost from the menace of bitter snow
helping me sleep away raging hordes.
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