Blurred Edges

Blurred Edges

Beneath words, emptiness still bears its scars; the self inflicted wounds scabbed over but not healed.

There is a new type of silence inside me, an echo of a non existent noise humming in my mind, a particular resonance that is monotonous and restless at the same time.

The hammering of the blood in my ears should be loud, but it is not and the beat of an atrophied heart too should hammer within me, but it doesnt; I know I am alive, but the true definition of this numb state of this silent existence eludes me.

I see but I do not remember seeing, I touch but have lost the ability to feel, emaciated nerve endings and emotions tattered and shredded, tactile sensation no longer exists, only a shrinking sense of a dehydrated, dessicated purpose remains.

I am here, I know this, I am certain of this, yet I do not exist within myself, I cannot grasp the reality of my own presence, as I fade away I am aware that I recognise myself as an unrecognisable shadow.

I feel trapped within a two dimensional reality, even the rabbit  hole that used to gape open for me to plunge into head first is but a parody of my own perception; now it is but a straight line reaching down deep into my mind that has no volume nor context. 

No touch, no feelings, no emotion, robbed of fleshly contact, beneath these words emptiness still bears its scars; the self inflicted wounds scabbed over but not healed.