"My Back Hurts"

"My Back Hurts" 

It could be blamed on the strain.

Tension ingrained in every joint.

Every muscle locked

in a tussle

for what bit of relief

one could hope to salvage.

Maybe it was mismanaged;

be it a misdiagnosis

or some degree of neglect

that I hope is never forced to the surface.

The purpose of posturing

a price I've paid too often

just to soften the concern

even a little

for this frame that has grown frail

and brittle.

Belittled by the prospect

of still thinking of myself

as an object

one would never look away from,

I've given time and wasted some

on thought after the fact

and complacency while in the act

of my deliberate deterioration.

Elation an overt cover for the wince

that has animated my anguish since

I last recalled a fall

that left me with lessons to learn

I've since chosen not to be concerned with.

That pressure:

The burning when I walk.

The unwillingness to talk

for fear of disclosing

the degree of discomfort

that has surely reshaped

underlined and redefined

what I've come to consider routine.

Was told it was my drinking

and I'm thinking better of that.

Somewhat. Not really.

Told myself

without blinking

that cup two nor twelve

could ever contribute to the hell

of dealing with this sober.

Was explained moreover

and again

how this pain can be contained

with conventional means of sobriety

but I'm already over it.

Perhaps in the end

it boils down to the stress.

My penchant for pondering intent

whether bad or good

should at times

be the furthest from my mind

but I feel it in my spine

when I say that I'm fine.

I take some time to rub my neck

before anyone can check

on my current condition.

Not quite what I've envisioned

at such an early age, at least.

Rest and peace

on so premium a lease

that I'm to the point of offering

a portioned piece of my flesh

if it would keep this at bay

for the rest of the day.

I can't take it.

Devin Joseph Metz

4.7.2020