Red-Hot Sensations & Flee From The Pain Poem by Margaret Alice

Gone all the games that I play, only Dante’s
darkness is left; gone all fantasy, only thing
left is nothingness, gone all thoughts of
friends and of life, everything meaningless,
a Sartrean feeling of sinking in dustbins,
l’enfer c’est l’autre; l’enfer c’est moi; I
should listen to Leonard Cohen’s monotonous
tunes, Clair de Lune; even Shostakovitz
would do; l'étranger c’est moi, perpetually
estranged from artless living in confidence;
always poised on the brink of a bottomless
void of estrangement, alienation from all
that I love, I wish there a switch I could throw
when things go awry; angry and deceived,
trusting in good did not bring me victory; I
must descend into the maelstrom - the threshold
is crossed between being in control and sinking
in the flood of harmful sensations and dark
feelings of fear of everything; even you,
always trustworthy and faithful, loyal and
caring; I fear even you when my head contracts
and pounds my brain into a pulp; I fear life
itself, with its red-hot sensations and painful
vibrations that stop my thoughts and saddens
my heart….


Flee From The Pain…

The pressure in my head threatens
compressing my brain - fear starts
to take hold - I want to flee from the
pain in my head pain in my ears –
from every noise the sound of your
voice - from constriction that feels like
strangulation suffocation - I won’t mind
the end of it all - just hate the process -
besides it has never been successful at all
the allergy only makes me feel miserable;
but afterwards I always live to tell the tale
– is this really what life should be about? –
If it is, I’m against it, I shall always prefer
joy to what is gained through this pain!
All because of malted hot chocolate
I did not know the reaction would be
so devastating – I hate and fear noise,
movement and food - when
will I be sane again…