An unquenchable thirst

My body feels like a centre of landmines constantly exploding,
Or waiting there to be stepped on – awakened for no apparent reason.

Symptoms come,
They charge, they burst,
They leave with an unquenchable thirst.

A thirst for health,
A thirst for comfort,
A thirst for anything that isn’t living hell.

I think I’m normal and I slightly overeat –
I indulge in a meal and have a healthy beautiful treat,
Friends stuff their mouths full and I do too,
But then the night that follows I sleep at midnight and am awake by two.

I forget I’m not normal,
I’m not like all the rest.
I’m a sensitive soul
Who is doing her best.
But when the best contains occasional lightness, and freedom and fun,
What follows is a desperate longing for everything to just be numb –
To be without all the discomfort and burning that follows
To be with a wish to just be healthy and be able to be strong

To do things spontaneously and not end up a night without sleep,
To know that someone is there and listening when I weep.

To be able to know that I’m not going to explode,
To know I can be free and not pay with a heavy, aching, load.

PTSD manifests
It sneaks
It glides
Into every fucking area
Of my body’s tide.

It seeps
It burns
It rages
It brews,
It steeps
And comes to,
Eventually leaving me feeling,
As normal as you.

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2 thoughts on “An unquenchable thirst

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