Am I Truly Here?

I hear the pound of tempest’s concussion,

no image dances beneath my lids.

My blackened eyes can’t see beyond

physical walls clouding my mind,

sealing me in wet poured cement.

Self-defense flows from thankless world,

cringing universe can’t affect me,

wheel of time constricts my emotions,

protection cocoons vulnerable heart.

Unable to fathom mental pain,

I have no color or taste, can’t

move or breathe as my earth stops.

Images dance beyond my cognition as

I tear hair from scalp but feel no emotion.

Am I truly here or am I dead?

I close my eyelids and fade away

to an oblivion where existence ceases,

blotting out the throbbing starvation

of my mental pain.