sickness, or how my body is poison(ned)

My body is poison, distortion, contusion, implosion. There are too many drugs rushing through my veins, racing through my arteries and clouding up my mind.



I am too much, I am more than I can handle. Yet I am not enough to matter. After 100km of biking, my body failed me, again. I cannot follow anything through, am I a dead end?




I pretend I am fine, I pretend I am whole, like so many of you poor broken things. I pretend I am sane while I read 6th century english poetry, in a tree, sucking on bits of ice. But really I am trying to lose myself in the beauty of what I read. Really I am only smiling because I cut the inside of my mouth on a shard of ice. To hurt yourself is not passive.

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We are all sick, Humanity is sick. Now we can choose to deny it, to become limp, mindless lumps of bones and adipose tissue. I have chosen to confront my reality, my existence, and feel the poison in me. It is what I do every time I post. And it is what you all do when you choose to confront your inner demons, to admit they exist. Admitting is not accepting. Isn't this admirable? Isn't this right?


Yes, we are all poison(ned). Poison for ourselves, poison for those we dislike, and poison for those we love. But we are still human, and I am still human. Because I still think, and question, and write. Because I love you all.