Written by: Louise Picek

There's this pulse,
it consumes me,
distracts me, 
controls me through the day.
Nothing can contain it,
maintain it,
keep my sanity in.
Why must I be cursed
with this pulse that persists?
Is this what I deserve,
the payment for the life I lived?
Somebody stop this,
I want to scream “Save Me!”
but the world wouldn’t understand.
They’d mock me,
stalk me,
brand me deep in my skin.
I try to pray,
but this pulse,
it has me tied by my wrists,
I can’t even bow,
breathe beyond its demand.
Here I am,
afraid of where I am,
sitting with this pulse,
ravishing me deep within.