Buried Alive

I live in torment, my world closing in,
The grave that has claimed me once posed as my friend.
With all of my might, I try to escape,
Though with shovel in hand, my mouth held agape.

Momentarily this abyss, like heaven, is surreal.
My distress is quieted by the utopia I feel.
I am weightless, floating, enveloped in bliss,
Each bite I devour, like a lingering kiss.

And linger it does, in conspicuous places,
An epitaph marring the tomb it disgraces.
It may come as a surprise; I do not dwell here by force,
For my hand from my mouth I’ve refused to divorce.

I struggle to breathe for my lungs are encased,
In a cavity once spacious, by fat now displaced.
My heart beats in anguish, gripped by the fear
That the end of its life in this tomb has drawn near.

The person I used to be has retreated,
Banished, abused, her soul near depleted.
She calls to be rescued as her life slips away,
In the mausoleum she built with a fork and a plate.

Until that day dawns, I shall not rest in peace,
I do not wish to be remembered obese.
What a tale I shall tell, if I do survive,
Because I have lived – BURIED ALIVE.

01/2003