The curse rides inside me.
I fall through black ice,
frozen, helpless, twisting.
Spine cracks,
Legs hang limp, hands grasp empty air.
Eyes stare blind, wide open to the sun
retinas are burnt, evacuated.
Hunger lives. Never dies.
Wounds ooze by day,
heal at midnight, then
bleed again at dawn.
Sleep allows no escape.
Just as my eyes close
my throat shuts
and I choke awake one more time.
(Personal Journal, DW Dec. 2018)
