Poem: The Core

The Core

It’s cold
Maybe it’s just me
I’m here, not here
A tunnel of memories
Detaches me from them
I’m not like them
I’m a freak
I only walk
I only breathe
I only eat
But I speak, only softly, whispers that are lost in existence
But I feel, only gently, reaching out towards the gravel
The cold gravel, Black; demeaning, humbling,
The cold gravel, fingers crushed between rugged stone, the crunching of bones
Breaking Breaking Breaking; bones breaking
The Cracking echoes violently pounding the ear drums
A reminder that I’m not good enough
The sun does not rise if it peeks out to the view of my crippled self
I need a hole
A damp dirty distant detached hole
Deep in the earth
So I can crawl on my bleeding knees, to the earth’s core
Where no one has been
I want to be where no one has been
The core. Feel the Black heat of death
Cold isolation in life. Isolation, Isolation
I want Isolation, I need Isolation
But they pull me , Why do they pull me
I’m not like them
Why do I like them
The Core, I will crawl to the core, and burn
Burn with black light, burn away and crumble
Crumble in the core

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