The connection is dead


Then demand for extradition,
via sedative arrived,

Is it worse?
Or better?
The two are so unalike

How can I compare
What I cannot describe?

Collapse of the memory
The connection is dead
Yet I hear the receiving
In the back of my head

Abort mission receiver
Re route all the dread
I can’t take the itching
All the scratching again

Muscles relax
Before they explode
Anxiety burning
The wildfire in frozen cold

Like a battery hooked up to
My desire to be
Corresponds to harsh measures
My brain
My disease

I say to myself
You’re better than this
You’re better than this

Opiate cell
I’ve caged myself in
You can’t tell which is which
you can’t tell which is which

I swear I am fine
As my words fill with bile
The sting of the guilt

I know not of denial


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