I Feel The Cold Poem by Alan Goodenough

sometimes i feel like a shell
sometimes i feel like a dream
sometimes i don't feel at all.

my heart beats hard
my chest shakes
my arms go weak and my legs buckle.

i live in my head
sometimes i venture out
but the pain....

there is no pain
there is blank...

silence is my friend
it helps my heart slow
makes me head stop racing

sometimes i feel
sometimes i kill
the people in my head

sometimes i drink
just to feel something
bile burning my throat

i live in nothing
i live for the moment
but the moment never comes

with eyes shut i see past faces
i see blood
i see apathetic rage
i feel sweat
i feel the cold
but awake
i truly feel
nothing.

i try to define
but there are no metaphors
no similes
no reason.

i bite my arms to find the blood
gnawing ligaments and bone
but blue veins run dry.

almost a man
never quite human
i cry dry tears for loved ones.

i can't remember dreams
i can't remember contact
i need to feel flesh
but it's never enough
i need to feel something
but never know what.

fucking lasts seconds as the pleasure parts for guilt
fucking never makes me feel whole
just guilt... guilt for what?
there's no religion
there's no sin
there's just animal passion
hidden in taboo fantasy
hidden in masturbation
hidden in the thought of the obscene
hurt me
hurt me
hurt me

the man in me wants to curl up and sleep.
but the emptiness carries us on.