Struggling physically and cognitively.

I am finding it desperately hard to draw on the computer and impossible to draw well enough ir hood a pastel long enough or control it, in order to draw phydically. This is gutting..

Yesterday was a very bad pain day on top of everything rise. I wrote this poem and nanaged a loose finger drawing to try to express my reality which is a nightmare.

I just pray that God hears my need and snswers my prayers for healing and hope. Amen

My head is pounding, 

my temples are throbbing 

rhythmically 

in time with the tormenting, 

agonising throb 

that is pounding me,

in the centre of my feet, 

the one that is also assaulting me

in the midpoint of my shins, 

along with the intense,

burning, 

never-ending throb 

that carves into my hands, 

pulls at my inner wrists, 

my lower and upper arms 

and even my armpits, 

my back, 

my sides, 

my chest muscles, 

my neck, 

the back of my head 

and distorts the senses in my face.

My mind has reduced. 

My language  has deconstructed down 

to irritable swearing and angry words,  

destroyed literally 

by the slightest sound, movement , jolt or surprise. 

All articulate, 

beautiful, 

sensitive, 

aware, 

meaningful language 

is lost, 

buried in a sea of dark, empty matter 

that should contain my thoughts and images, 

in grand hue and vibrancy, 

instantly shattered.

All hope of better moments, 

the creative process I love, 

the interactions I long for, 

everything  becomes literal, 

reduced, 

stripped,

has flown away,

in a desolate, empty screech

of anguish.

I have lost all 

meaningful, 

helpful, 

interactive 

communication.

I am a bear growling in indefinable, 

indescribable distress.

I cannot see clearly. 

My view has utterly, 

indescribably  

diminished, 

blurred already, 

it shuts me down 

into more invisible, 

hidden, dark quarries 

in my body. 

I am lost to the outside world completely.

Everything hurts me. 

Everything is hurting 

outside and inside me. 

No part is untouched.

The throbbing consumes me.

I want to stab at it,  

foolish as this would be,  

in reality.

My limbs have gone to molten jelly. 

Only the thtob tells me I still exist

in any physical way.

The thtobbing overwhelms any sense of me 

It beyond torments me.

This throb that berates me.

This throb that incapacitates me,

Along with the refusal of my hands to feel, 

my feet to bend, 

my legs to carry me

my fingers to grip,

my jaw to move,

Is an unstoppable part of me

It is my heart beat pounding

Torturing every cell in my body as it

Ironically brings life.

But what life has it wrought for me

Twisted into an unrecognizable creature

Who cannot live in the world

And loses all sense of meaning repeatedly

As a consequence 

of my terrible, increased sensitivity to it.