Sometimes I feel there are tiny creatures moving under my skin, trying to tear their way out, flowing like a current, from my brain to my temples, my neck, my shoulders, running down my spinal cord; sometimes I feel all my movements are jammed, distorted, disconnected.
Sometimes my body works against my mind; I try so hard to hold on to a vision that no longer exists, and its all so vague and deathly in my eye.
And sometimes I try so hard to keep my skill alive, although I know its moving out of my sight, like words out of my throat vanish in the air, out of my system, no longer a part of me, and the struggle to keep it in me aches my entire body.
Sometimes I feel myself moving away from the thread of life, and I try to stay in the flow, but I'm thrown aside, and again and again I have to make my way back onto Earth, not understanding how I got away in the first place.
And then I'm so tired, failing miserably to recognize the monster against which I'm constantly at war.
But then I see a glimpse of myself beneath all this ache, and I see the joys of having known the life I've lived, that only I could live, and I want to live just a little further, just a little more to see myself self do it so.