Numb

Right now I’m really upset that I used up the escapist value of drugs and alcohol years ago.

Now I actually have a feeling worth escaping,

a miasma:

of rage,

and heart-sickness, 

betrayal,

         

and disbelief,

            

and fearforanother.

            

These are framed by

Love

And without

Love

Would not exist

And knowing that

makes

It worse.

If I hadn’t tried, as a young ego,

To find a state of consciousness that I could decide on,

If I’d only known,

That, though I wore nerves outside skin even then

That I’d yet to experience real pain, I might have avoided numbing myself then.

Now there is 

nothing that can cause me not to feel, 

even for a moment,

though it may cause me not to remember

Manners,

Morals,

Humanity,

Entire days,

The origin of flesh of wounds,

Disastrous phone calls in the cold hours,

Promises to myself (to others should be obvious).

This feeling is frostbite

Creeping through the vessels of feeling,

A cold so intense it burns,

And endangers the limbs, the organs themselves.

I need warmth now.