Love’s Blind Surgeon

The endless waves of anguish and despair, crest and crash, soft and violent. A disgusting mental scene that crosses the screen from nightmare to glaring reality.

It’s like pieces and chunks of secondary organs have been both sloppily scooped out and, contrarily, eviscerated with precision, then replaced with extremely dense ice — either splattered swirls or sculpted figures.
Half of the spleen, a third of the liver, a hazelnut-sized chunk of the right lung, a quarter of the stomach right around the duodenum.

Every breath is a slush of benign warmth and stabbing cold in those sections of the body. Internally; as if you’ve swallowed frozen fishing line while your muscles bend and gorge with the flow of blood, pressing together & causing spasms and contractions; a frightened animal blinded by fear.

It feels like you’re throwing up ice cold water without actually vomiting.
It feels like you’re swallowing sand halfway down your throat.
It feels like everything you hear has a literal fuzz on it that forces its way through your ears. Conversations sound unclear, echoed in missed places,and words are out of order.
You get half-trapped in memory, and half-trapped by reality.
You wonder ‘why?’, but you don’t know why you wonder ‘why?’.
You feel every iris pierce through you and poke at your naked and vulnerable mind.

Wide open, unsutured, waiting for infection. Dying to escape.