Is it exhaustion?

Is it true exhaustion? Or is It the clock or life ticking by one minute at a time that I lay here in the harsh reality?

Maybe it's one or another short jolts of pleasure or pleasing, with my mind maybe I'm never satisfied.

I could be bigger better and less in harms way, but I stand like stone feeling the emptiness grow more deep, and confused.

The feeling of snakes twisting in my stomach makes me chest tight the butterflies were replaced with the venom my mouth leaks.

The feeling of never getting better is drowning and unbearing, how sickening of a taste to swallow the venom you were taught to spit out when times were tough.

The taste bringing me to my knees as I clench my throat, the pain of it going down my throat talking to me through my mind.

I choke up on the tears that drip down my face, maybe I'm. Here existing in a world of my making, why can I not cope?

That is question for the next time.

-Clown26 05/29/26