Shards of glass riddle my heart
shrapnel of exploded hopes
The inky discharge of despair bubbles forth from the wounds, covering everything,
And then congeals into long needles of obsidian
That rend the tissue of my soul,
Which falls apart, like old cobwebs brushed aside.
I curl up into a fetal ball to escape the pain,
but the darkness within me is growing more insistent,
cancerous voices whispering that I am worthless, lazy, and hopeless.
I am paralyzed with fear.
I try to cover my ears, but it's still there,
Coiled like a snake
In a dark corner of my mind.
I composed this today while waiting in line at the Food Bank. It pretty much sums up my darkening mood.
The dreaded eviction notice did not arrive today. It probably will arrive Monday.
I slept 14 hours last night, never a good sign.
I woke up at 11:30, dressed, and took the bus to the Food Bank, trying the whole way not to dwell on the brutal, self-loathing thoughts that swirl around me like a dark cloud.
The lines at the food bank are getting longer and longer every week, and the amount of food they give out is getting smaller and smaller, because they have more and more mouths to feed.
The dark, gloomy weather hasn't helped, either. I'm using the light box every day, now. When I become homeless, I will lose that crutch, too.