4/16/17

in the beginning
it was just
a couple of mosquito bites,
scraped elbows and knees,
a fever, and chicken pox.

now life is
running
from a pack
of sharp teeth
consisting of
people,
places,
obligations,
ideas,
words,
and
problems.

running
as hard
and
as fast
as i can
until
the lactic acid
builds
and
my lungs
and
muscles
give out
to exhaustion
then a set
of canines
sinks into
my throat,
followed by
another
and
another
and
another
and
another
until i
lose count.

tearing in.
ripping
chunks of flesh
off my body
and
out of my psyche.

but i continue to fight
out of sheer natural instinct
to survive.
to continue to exist.
but like every prey animal
you've watched get attacked,
caught, and torn apart,
at some point there will
be no will left
due to fatal wounds,
blood loss, and/or
just accepting fate:
giving up.

the only difference
between
me
and
them
is that in the end
i will be disemboweling
myself with my own set
of teeth and maybe
i have the entire time
along with the others.

maybe there never was any others
and at some point
i was the one disemboweling myself
all long?