There is an ongoing, piercing ailment,
at the base of the neck, in the shoulder,
highly repetitive.
I try to convince my gray mind,
Here is the source of my depression,
but I know better; I’m permanently damaged.
Two men in the hallway try to crush me
with vibrant, devilish energy.
I watch as the sidewalks
start to explode with foreign,
living things, and I know I am broken,
fouled up, created with bad shit.
stillfugue 
#1 by Kay Camden on November 8, 2011 - 8:20 am
I get that too. A massage therapist I go to calls it “computer mouse arm”. He is so right. A massage will fix it for about a week, but it’s worth it. Do you ever get a massage? Not from a spouse or friend, from a pro. You have to go to a pro.
It’s interesting how you see the world falling apart around you but you believe it’s you who has the problem.
#2 by Carl on November 8, 2011 - 10:48 pm
A chiropractor has helped me with this problem. I just need more time in the day to allow for getting there when I need to…
My doctor spoke to me yesterday about me having the problem, She insists that it’s not ALWAYS my fault. She seems to insist that I need to cut myself some slack.
#3 by Carl D'Agostino on November 8, 2011 - 8:23 pm
You work in this genre really captures the real of it for the sufferer.
#4 by Carl on November 8, 2011 - 10:43 pm
Thank you so much, Carl. I appreciate your comment.