recoiling
sometimes the world coils up inside me and i want to light it on fire so that it may turn to ash and disappear, taking me with it.
but lately, i wake up to find it alight already. it disturbs my day, and when i recoil to bed all i want is for it to disappear into that other state where discomfort and fantasy await me. my mind tries to extinguish it - this raging burning coil that singes the insides of my chest.
it succumbs to sleep - eventually. but it won’t abate in the mornings. when my voice is groggy and my shoulders are sore, the raging coil of internal turmoil burns. burns. burns right through my senses… until i become senseless.
the coil burns everyday. some days with a louder rage than others. its flame becomes aggravated with little inconveniences that magnify the sick sad realities of this world we call home.
it makes itself at home inside me. its shape changes. it is not so tightly wound anymore. it has stayed so long it may have followed the contours of my heart. my senses disappear into ash, the coil reigns through my veins, curling into my ribs. its fire feels warm now. i know it well. i let it disappear me, leaving my body as its home.
