Dense black mucous
seeps through every pore
of my scarred skin
through every hair follicle
coating each strand thickly
A river of hot bitumen floods
my veins and arteries
I cannot breathe with
my lungs as sponges
suffocated by filthy grime
reaching my heart
filling it with sticky tar
My brain is flushed with soot
My mind is black
All has ceased
Death
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Author: Ellie Thompson
Writing my memoirs, musings, a little fiction and a lot of poetry as a way of exploring and making the most of my life ...
... Having had a break from writing my blog for more than three years, I decided to return to write my memoirs, some day-to-day observations, views and feelings. My passion is non-fiction poetry. I have a disability and use an electric powerchair called Alfie and let nothing get in the way of living life to the full.
I believe that you can never do a kindness too soon and should give credit where credit is due. A smile or a kind word could make the difference between a good or bad day for a person - we never know what's going on for another soul. Those little things, perhaps, practised daily like a mantra, could mean so much to someone else.
Thank you for visiting my blog and reading a little more about me. Please, make yourself at home here. You are very welcome. Ellie x 😊
View all posts by Ellie Thompson
Essentially Ellie 
This appears to be from 2014. How long have you been blogging for?
This piece reminds me of one of your recent ones. The black ink that just fills you…
I began blogging in 2014, so you have unearthed some of my very much older and mostly forgotten posts. When I first started, I was also dealing with a lot of trauma. Unfortunately, I ended up with an emotionally abusive relationship with, of all people, a therapist (there are several posts about this earlier on and not so early on, too). She walked out on me on the day my father died, which is still unthinkable. I buried all my childhood trauma at that point. Very unfortunately, I was then a victim of adult rape (which I’ve never written about), and it’s only now that I’m with a good therapist, having had a long, long break from therapy, that I’m dealing with my traumas all over again, only in the correct way now. You are quite right, this poem is not unlike some of those I’m writing now. X
Woah. I really hate it when people who are meant to be helping others turn out evil… Sorry that she caused you pain, even with her departure, but at least that allowed you to get a fresh – healthier – start.
Thanks, Sam. She caused me a lot of emotional damage. I’m glad I’ve never bumped into her on the way into town, as she only lives a couple of streets away from me. I really don’t know how I would react if that happened. I hope it doesn’t. X