I tap my fingers to the rythme of misery,
a continuous beat playing in my mind.
Any word in the english language,
could trigger a sense ofguilt and anxiety in this very moment.
An image to each thought,
a reality to each image.
I close my eyes and dream of good times,
but slip into a repeating state.
It's chaos, chaos.
I've dreamt day and night,
for that accepting feeling.
Placing my life on the line,
spewing cruelty and pain from my mouth.
It rips my throat as I vomit,
the medication is eating my liver now.
I'd contently lay on my deathbed,
and rest in peace until absolute infinity collects me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem