Dig

I dig into my brain for answers to questions I don’t know

The nausea in my chest rising with every passing second.

Frantic, I tug at every nerve, breaking down every cell into its atomic form

I claw and rip away my skin,

Until all is left is a translucent veil of brown

Bite and gnaw into my tongue

Until I taste metal

Punch my ribs, 

Until the shards puncture my chest

Jam my fingers into my eyes

Until all that are left are gaping holes

Still unable to allow the light in.

So I plunge my hand into my chest to find my heart

Push my way underneath the torn skin and exhausted muscle and thick, hot blood. 

Yet it still pumps away grotesquely in my bloodied hands

The resilient fucker still not satisfied 

Daring me to go on, to try.

But nothing would quell my nausea

Bruised, torn and mangled,

I vomit everything inside on paper

Scribbling away until my hands are mangled, the paper deep with indents, 

Engraving every letter into eternity, through space and time.

I write and I write and I write until I lose all sense of time

Until I no longer feel my searing flesh

or the darkness in the holes that were my eyes.

Until there is no trace of my human form

Only the spirit,

And words floating away

Tied to nothing.

Not me,

Not my big brain

Not my torn body

Not my beating heart

Just existing - Detached,

An unbroken string that went on and on and on

Loud, booming

but

Quiet.