Another severe one disabling the will
To just remain upright and anchored somewhat.
With flat feet on the floor, though, I double in pain.
Why must I go through this again and again?
The release of the rut that’s become of the gut
Reflects but expulsion that’s little to nil.
A second wave coming – I am, though, prepared
For my consciousness leaving. I’m bent on the floor.
What happened betwixt is a mystery to me.
If I could upload this for doctors to see,
Then they wouldn’t ignore my complaints anymore.
I suppose my describing it all makes folks scared.
But then how would anyone else come to know
What some seemingly private a hell does go on
Behind smokescreens of provident medical view?
The fact that they find nothing wrong is a clue
That what I’ve got going can surely be gone
If I seek inner guidance and just take things slow.
The funniest thing is the ‘movement,’ you see,
As the body is limp, yet it flails on the deck
With a force that is fluid – a rhythmical feel.
Can the body explain to the gut the real deal?
My body may tell me my life is a wreck,
But it’s psychosomatic. That much pleases me.