Obsession

I am raw and crater pitted, a careful outline across
anger stained fear imprinted chaos.
My body is a tomb stone, an epitaph; my soul is bare upon naked skin
and I see for the first time:
I am interminably unsure, shying away from commitment to opinion
I am devoid of person, I am devoid of hope and life and the flickering core,
My centre of a smile is disappeared with my flesh, my skin, my muscle.
I am devoid of everything but this
empty starving and this
indecision.

And yet somehow still trapped inside this burial chamber I am
conflicting in thoughts of life and thoughts of destruction.
I am clinging to health, friendship and comfort
Not one but many and we are wrapped up in the same blankets and cotton and
the same perfect, all loving arms, a matrix of self-deprivation.

This is no temporary measure. This is no insignificant obsession.
This is swirling through my veins, a virus of the mind and spirit,
I am not longer
Beautiful.
But I am not longer
Alone.