I am fine, I say …

but actually no,

no, i am not fine,

i am just about as fine as a dung-dusted shoe is from a shine.

no, i am not fine,

i am lost,

I am lost between mangled dreams, and howling screams,

discordant, jangling,

being ripped agonisingly apart at the seams,

these blinded eyes drowning in torrential streams,

strangled, neutered, dull,

with just enough time to mull,

that every shard of emotion has been anaesthetised,

that every filament of feeling has been rendered null –

with every sentiment vacuumed into the frigid void,

knowing there can be no gnawing pain,

knowing that every neuron is of all static devoid

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