ARCTIC CONQUERORS WITHIN MY CHEST
Widening of The Gap
Aches are coursing through my body, touching every particle of my existence on their way to the center of my chest. They leave nothing untouched in their quake, wrecking and burning through the outer edges of my inner linings. I am quite sure now there’s a gap, much larger than what either of us has ever seen. It’s a type of gap that Arctic conquerors tend to fall into, one so deep they start to become aware of their imminent death. Yet, when I look down, there is nothing but the hair on my chest poking out, hoping to be seen, unaware of what’s going on inches beneath the surface.
Oh, but I can feel it widening. Not slowly, as one might expect, but so fiercely that others are starting to notice the plates shifting, without the ability to see. I start to pace about, keeping my hands busy, touching and placing objects in other places — tricking myself into thinking I’ve just cleaned, but acutely aware that I’ve just created another mess. Barely able to put one foot in front of the other, it’s as if I am a chicken running around with its head cut off. As if any nonsense I try could possibly stop something as supernatural as a gap widening in my chest.
It’s been there so long, I’ve yet to remember what the source of it was, but it must have been packed with energy, and a relentless agenda to disrupt. All I can hope is that whatever it is, it has taken enough of me by the time it reaches the edges, or perhaps I will be consumed — I am the gap.
Aches are coursing through my body, touching every particle of my existence on their way to the center of my chest. They leave nothing untouched in their quake, wrecking and burning through the outer edges of my inner linings. I am quite sure now there’s a gap, much larger than what either of us has ever seen. It’s a type of gap that Arctic conquerors tend to fall into, one so deep they start to become aware of their imminent death. Yet, when I look down, there is nothing but the hair on my chest poking out, hoping to be seen, unaware of what’s going on inches beneath the surface.
Oh, but I can feel it widening. Not slowly, as one might expect, but so fiercely that others are starting to notice the plates shifting, without the ability to see. I start to pace about, keeping my hands busy, touching and placing objects in other places — tricking myself into thinking I’ve just cleaned, but acutely aware that I’ve just created another mess. Barely able to put one foot in front of the other, it’s as if I am a chicken running around with its head cut off. As if any nonsense I try could possibly stop something as supernatural as a gap widening in my chest.
It’s been there so long, I’ve yet to remember what the source of it was, but it must have been packed with energy, and a relentless agenda to disrupt. All I can hope is that whatever it is, it has taken enough of me by the time it reaches the edges, or perhaps I will be consumed — I am the gap.