Infections

In the resonating silence,

Deafening my ears...

Roars of distillment, not a whisper from your lips.

You took me to this resting place,

You asked me to bleed for you,

To cry to you,

To give to you my all.



You asked of me "Do you have faith?"

And I told you forever.

You brought me here,

A lamb following blindly

Into the cool calm insanity of your mind,

Your seeping madness...

And here I reside.



You asked me "Do you love me?"

I told you forever.

You whispered your

Everlasting kiss upon my ears

Lulling me into a pleasant poisonous sedation of the mind...

And I followed...

Like a lamb to the slaughter,

I followed blindly,

And you lead with the sweet seductive pleasures,

The hooks within my flesh, so deep...



You asked me then, "Would you hurt for me?"

I told you forever.

Pulling upon the steel within my flesh,

Thousands of infections spread forth from your lips,

Kissing me sweetly to share the infestation....

And I fed hungrily.



You asked me then, "Will you give me your all?"

I told you forever.

Like a leech wrapped in pretty paper,

You fed from me...

Replacing my everything with your infection,

Mindless indulgence

And I reveled in the pleasures of letting go,

Even as I lie dying....

I drank in the purification of your disease.



And then you asked me nothing...



The angel's breath of a whisper that you once lavished upon my ears was gone...



I knew nothing of your voice, your reason, your mind, your fingertips...



And you were gone.



I waited for your voice...your comfort...

For you to wake me from this deepened slumber,

Of my death, from my rot.



But here you left me, no words,

No soft offerings from your pained lips...

No sweet touches from your embrace...

The only thing you had left behind,

Was your disease...

And the growing coldness within.



In the resonating silence,

Deafening my ears...

Roars of distillment, not a whisper from your lips.

You took me to this resting place,

You asked me to bleed for you,

To cry to you,

To give to you my all.



From this sickness, I rose...

A monster within my own pretty flesh.

The thousands of little infestations,

I have mutated into my own infection

For a world that is ripe for the sowing,

With fresh turned earth and soft minds.



For now, I spread my own infection...



And even now, it crawls within the deepest crevises of the soul and mind,

Anchoring with tiny splintered legs to latch unto it's victims.



Even now, I whisper my infections unto you...





© Keisha Courville

~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)

reply to post by Nehmahati


Very nice Nehmahati, a poetic transformation. What doesn't kill us makes stronger maybe?
I can relate to this very well for I too have felt the infection.
May you find an elixir of love and hugs somewhere along the way....

From this sickness, I rose...

A monster within my own pretty flesh.

The thousands of little infestations,

I have mutated into my own infection

For a world that is ripe for the sowing,

With fresh turned earth and soft minds.

Thanks for sharing,
spec

Thank you and yes, it is a poem about what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I've gone through a lot of really messed up things personally and even though it's gotten so bad sometimes that I've been close to a breaking point, I've always come out stronger for it. Recently I went through the worse of it, having to give up custody of my son to his father because of my history of seizures. Everything between having 10 seizures within a 6 month period and my grandmother getting breast cancer, and everything in between. It was quite a rough time, but I'm doing much better now.

reply to post by Nehmahati

Glad to hear you feel better. Yoga, meditation and maybe Tai Chi can do wonders for the spirit, body and mind.

Peace,
spec

Yeah, I've actually felt really productive lately. It's really due to the guy I'm dating right now. He helped me through a lot of stuff I was going through.