Intensity.

Salt on pain, that’s what it is.

Like a live wire spreading its current down every, single nerve.

The more painful, the more you grit your teeth and brace yourself straight to bear with it.

Blanking out, not listening, to words that hold no more meaning.

Sneers barged in, sarcasm seething, leaving wounds too sore to touch.

A contest of which words are the sharpest, and could plunge into the deepest realms of the heart.

Joy! As the blood sept and soaked. Joy! Constant stabs to the vital wounds, old and new.

And then, it was numbed.

You know, I think I am kinda addicted to the high when the salt touches the wound.

It was like a test how long I could take the pain before I lick the coat of salt away.

2 bubbling ulcers. A nasty finger that rubs salt onto them furiously, making sure the pain consumes. And then, it was bare, raw, and bloody.

Then, you hardly feel it.

***

I was lulled to sleep by tears, as thoughts of her slipped in.

I slept well last night, only to be roused by the rattling rain.

I wish I could sleep on, but I didn’t.

Cloudy vision and all. I wish I am happy but I ain’t.

I wish I am sad but I ain’t.

When you don’t feel, everything’s a shade of neutral.

Nothing more, nothing less.

***

Whee! Joy! Popeye’s for lunch yesterday!

Oily stuff ain’t friendly stuff. I should refrain from that for a while.

It’s midweek.

Tomorrow, she shall be back, and maybe, just maybe, I will be back, too.