Obsession

Obsession
The pain. It is devouring and utterly consuming. A withering white searing flame of ach within me. Pulsing. Convulsing. I can feel it gripping and gashing from within. Unperceivable and yet inconceivable. Is it even real? Does this truly exist? What force could create such raw anarchic anguish? To perceive such uncontrollable affliction and be unable to grasp it, rip it from within my deteriorating frame.

So I take it, allow it. Consume in. The tears fall, glistening on pallid cheeks. Have you ever noticed that when you cry, on those days that you have just too many tears to keep in, they just flow? A river let lose through a valley, uncaring. Nature does not concern herself with the weak. No, the river will continue. Demolishing whatever lies in its wake. These tear rage down, the cause still unknown. It just is. But why? How?

The enigmatic yearning to glimpse this agony. To discover a root to the corporeal world. You feel the throbbing but it isn't enough. It's not real. How can it be? I need to see it. Touch it. Behold it. Can this be real?

The mirror reveals the enigma that is my torment. I gaze, fascinated by the contortion of the face that is my reflection. Who is this stranger revealing the facade that is my pain? Calloused wrinkles wreathed by lines of suffering and horror. Glowering pale green orbs glistening with natural moisture. Squinting with pain. Plump rose petal lips, ensnared by within my unrelenting bite. A snarl forms. Gnawing down, attempting to make this feeling a reality my mind can comprehend. This internal furnace consuming me. How am I to even know this is real?

How could it be? I can't see it, I can't touch it, but it's shredding and destroying my very soul! I want to scream. I don't. I can't. So I stare, watching the tears stream down. Fixated on this pain. Do I even want it to end?