Anxiety

17 Dec

There’s an unsatisfied emptiness inside.

Flying hole, whose darkness’ shadow can’t hide

even with a lit candle in hand.

 

I know you’re there.

I can hear your silence.

I know its boldness.

Yet I don’t know its name,

and in the end I believe it’s hunger,

yet I don’t know if it is a bull or a human male.

 

Who are you, emptiness?

Why do I fear you?

There you are…

Yes, yes. There you are. I see you without seeing you.

I know I am hollow.

I know you’re no saint.

But, why are you mean?

Why are you here to cause me pain?

What do you want?

What do you want, Lord?

 

You’re not hunger… Maybe gluttony, yes.

Or perhaps you’re the hunger of hunger.

So hollow I am, I suddenly miss the pain.

As you’re just there.

Simply and easily, you’re just there.

You’re no pain.

You’re strong, yet you don’t dare

to eat and kill me.

You’re just there.

Just there.

And although, you’re no pain to me,

it pains me to not know what do you mean.

 

Arms shake, legs shake.

Hollow fruitless plate.

Bullet-less gun.

Who are you? Why do you exist?

Am I your Universe? Are you my hole?

Do you want to turn me into food? To destroy the Universe?

Is that it?

You hunger for me?

Why?

I am salty.

 

I look inside.

I pierce my brain.

In this newborn crack, I walk the opposite way.

I know there’s a hole,

doing purely nothing,

distilling pure nothingness,

lying inside.

It won’t kill. It won’t live. It won’t follow me.

Just there. Just there, it is.

And I don’t know why.

I realize myself—

I become my own Verb—

and I detect in this poison,

who won’t kill me or let me drown on it,

that I am just hungry.

Or I am just hunger.

Something I might be. I don’t comprehend.

 

I see. I feel. I am.

I don’t follow the hole.

In this throne,

in-daughter-of-God-ed,

repenting from my sins,

I just realize the inside of me.

And I detect a thought,

so useless,

so low…

 

I eat. I fill. And yet this hunger won’t leave.

Ants. Ants, I have.

Biting ants,

biting my womb,

biting my belly,

biting my life.

Ants, children of mine. Orphaned from a father.

A father whose name is Thought.

 

I move without leaving.

I stay, walking.

The soul runs, the time follows.

And somehow, I am starving.

 

Stop it.

Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. The ants are my children, from my chest.

But they’re opening me. They’re coming to life

Who gestated them?

Scum. You scum. Who called for you?

Scum. You scum. You unwanted scum.

They’re opening my chest…

They’re opening me, revealing me, stripping me, undressing me!

Help, help!

Hunger, hunger, hunger, hunger…!

Go away, go away, go away, o away, go away, go away…!

 

There’s an unsatisfied emptiness inside.

Flying hole, whose darkness’ shadow can’t hide

even with a lit candle in hand.

And yet, it is still there, palpitating, antagonizing my heart.

I don’t know if it is the running blood filling my arteries,

or the scum ants who stretch my sorrowful veins.

 

VERSIÓN EN ESPAÑOL AQUÍ.

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3 Responses to “Anxiety”

  1. Jeff Nguyen December 18, 2013 at 1:10 am #

    Anxiety is a familiar friend and deserving of it’s own tribute. Great poem. 🙂

    • krikli01 December 18, 2013 at 5:00 am #

      Thanks a bunch! The good ol’ anxious feeling is indeed everybody’s friend, how not to write about him after all our adventures together? x3

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