An intense pain
between your two
back teeth.
-
Refreshing the same three websites again,
no change, no dopamine, no joy,
restless overnight again and blaming the noise.
-
You’ve been spinning around in circles
on repeat
for years now.
-
You
recall the passion that you had
and recognise that now
you let it all go, unlikely to return
the tracks in the field burnt.
-
Nothing really clicks the same,
you’ve become much of what you hated
and now you sit and watch time roll by
-
nonchalant
-
whereas before you’d have found something to do,
you might have lived.
-
You watch yourself rot in a box,
in the midst of some sick system you created
the same two meals on repeat
patterns of time spent, set alight,
the money saved beneath the floorboards
still not enough to make you happy,
you fulfil quotas but never your spirit.
-
The future is the positive space,
but any hope you have sits
just out of reach, taunting,
a balloon floating away but
letting its string slip through your hand from time to time,
keeping you invested.
-
The past an untouchable zone and
one you don’t dare to look at for long for fear
of the ground opening up
and swallowing you whole,
some things just aren’t to be reflected on.
-
Blocking out your flaws until they become so bloated that they block your vision instead,
your mind a parade of ugliness you try to hide
try to swallow down like the bitterest dry mud you can find
just to vomit it back up and face it, worse than it was before,
the iridescent slop you’ll have to consume again.
-
Check your notifications hoping for someone to save you
over and over, all the while knowing that words alone are not enough anymore,
find distraction in the physical pains from the new, more intense mental ones,
-
find distraction in hatred, in frustration you never felt before but which now burns like napalm and leaves no part of you untouched,
-
find distraction in pornography, exploitative images that hollow out the mind, a brief relief consumed by guilt, take the bad with the worse,
-
distraction in pure emptiness,
-
distractions from distractions
-
but that pain will always seek you out
and Ludovico your fears again
until you realise that
you’re comfortable in your misery,
-
happy to stay in it, barely afloat
feeling like a martyr for experiencing so much pain
that now you put it into yourself directly
and watch how the body reacts,
almost sadistic, addicted
to the anguish.
-
There is no vacation from the self,
it cannot
be escaped.
About the Creator
Reece Beckett
Poetry and cultural discussion (primarily regarding film!).
Author of Portrait of a City on Fire (2020, Impspired Press). Also on Medium and Substack, with writing featured… around…


Comments (1)
Sums up a large chunk of my life! fearless, wise words, Reece!