Black Silk.

As time striped me of life,
I felt as if I were finding myself
-And I rejoiced-!
I thought I was being healed,
But the infection had only been masked:
Entwining sensually with the red silk
That pulls through my being.

The holes in my skin are deep,
Only the edges healed with scars,
And no matter how deep I cut,
Or how many strings of black
I pick from the red silk,
I can’t rid myself of the virus.

It spreads through me like fire,
And for each string of black I cut
And unravel from my blood,
Ten more lace through the vein -
And I am becoming numb inside.

The heat is searing me hollow,
And the darkness is continuing
To rape my essence, relentlessly-
Soon there will be nothing of me left!

I can feel the darkness slithering,
Trying to steal my last sources of refuge:
My heart stutters now,
I can feel it inside me slurring
As the black satin constricts around it.

I can feel the disease,
Lapping at the fluid around my thoughts,
Around my logical that keeps me from ending it,
And each day my logical blurs.

I can feel myself pushing my limits -
Suddenly, the speed limit is merely a restriction,
Suddenly, hard liquor is water to me,
Suddenly, that cut isn’t deep enough.

And all the while,
As I rot inside my own frame,
I smile at those around me,
Searching the core of knowledge for understanding,
And I cry out to discover that there is no cure,
That there is only acceptance…

I can’t separate
What is and isn’t me anymore,
Or perhaps, who I once was,
And who I am becoming.

As time striped me of life,
I felt as if I were finding myself
-Oh how hollow I have become-!
I thought I could heal,
But the infection has become ecstasy:
Entwining sensually with the red silk
That pulls through my being.