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Feel
Confusion, feelings of normalcy slithered away, crept into the dark of night,
Fear, I don't remember, can't recollect, afraid trapped in the finite,
Stumbling for words even as I write this work, more difficult diurnal tasks become,
Forever may reveal potential in many, but like myself the eternal masks some,
Whether you feel I manifest such feelings from within is of no concern,
What I feel is is tangible to me, but to others silly for they will never learn,
I wake up to no difference, first thoughts, hoping from cachexia I may be exempt,
To sleep the day eventually succumbs, soon awakening healthier in the dreams I've dreamt,
The ones I continue to dream, each day, from reality the farther they are stretched,
To feel at any part of the day like I am together, for most is granted, unconsciously etched,
If you actually feel, can you still be accurately labeled a hypochondriac?
If I need to purge a sickness, a sickness even invisible to the strengths of ipecac?
I don' know much, no one truly believes me and at the end I am left in the same place,
I've spoken with the inevitable, I know I will eventually disappear with no trace,
Nonetheless, now more than ever, when it's most difficult, I want to enjoy life before my quietus,
I'm tired, living, dying enveloped in a state of exacerbated entropy, in pain this is only the beginning - I am a fetus.
