Constrictor

Atrophy of Soul

But now I realize that I ended the thing that I desperately tried to avoid. I now follow the same rhythm going left and right from arm to arm, as a person does with a job. Now I am dependent on a source that gives my beat a rhythm you can't dance too, my meaning I thought I had, lost through my veins. Instead of making my life more meaningful I went downhill, wasting my body away, my temple crumbling under me.

Now my mouth wet but dry, beads of sweat forming at the top of my forehead. My hands clammy leaving wet marks on my clothing. I can feel my pulse quicken my heart beating faster, pumping poison through my veins. I start to feel numb, noticing form pooling out of the corner of my mouth. My muscles contract involuntarily, keeping me locked in position. Realizing what is happening I have nothing but to acknowledge my fate. For I thought I was was making life meaningful but instead I damaged it. Not taking care of myself leaving an empty shell behind. Laying down on the only items I own I see a mirage off in the distance. My mother, father and brother staring at me with the sunset illuminating them in the background. I take in a breathe letting the corners of my mouth turn up forming a smile. As my body shakes I see my family get more distance off into the horizon.

"A young woman was found this morning dead in an old refrigerator box. The coroner has ruled her death an accident stating that it was an overdose on meth. Among the scene many used needles were found along with the drug. However with no identification the authorities don't know who to contact. The only piece of information we have is from a letter presumably from the victim's mom. On it a poem named Atrophy by Julia Copus, along with a message. If anyone has any information about this young lady and her untimely death please contact your local authorities. And to everyone else out there, don't lose your way, maintain the things that you have."