Sieve of My Soul
The pain has lodged itself inside my soul,
forever expanding, attempting to destroy
other emotions, creating for itself a
vast emptiness, darkness: an abysmal void.
This void resembles desolation, a
depressed nothingness, like that of the expanse
before God sang the world into existence,
or like that of Milton’s Hell, the air dense
with intense mourning, palpable with the sense
of irreparable loss. Yes, my soul
has become the Cimmerian desert of souls,
forever night, never providing a lull
from the darkness, never allowing a
ray of relief or hope. I try to feel,
but in feigning feeling, elucidate
merely that I cannot. What exists to heal
my soul? The virus, spreading freely through
me, infecting and decimating my core,
goes unchecked by medicine or rehab.
One by one, my emotional store
loses inventory: first happiness, then
excitement, concern, hope, faith, and shame.
The virus so permeates my being that
I feel only a dull, relentless pain.
With the obliteration of each new
part of my soul comes a feeling that
resembles anesthesia, creating
a numbness and a disconnect that trap
me in a state of apathy; complete
disjoint characterizes my persona.
I would wish for relief, but I cannot
hope for such. I am in intense need of
treatment, a remedy, perhaps even a
savior, but what and whom? Cynical I
cannot hope that the greatest of these, love,
will rescue me from injustice, lift high
the idealistic impossibility,
unconditional love. Does such a thing
even exist on this earth? I cannot
believe it does; I can no longer cling
to the false dream that enraptures every
ingénue: I am no longer naïve.
Thus the quiet usurpation of my
soul: emptiness, desolation lay sieve.
promise i'm not emo, guys... | 
. the very next day after maymester finals starts thru-term, so i'll basically be going to school nonstop until aug 8th. how peachy!