Everest

My depth perception fades,
paranoia and suspicion stalk me
as I continue this perpetual climb
up my Mount Everest.

Everlasting doubt and shame.
The hate and blood that abuse me,
Use me.

My Everest.
My mountain of disgrace
or worse yet,
my mountain of slow apathy.

Searing needles of cold and disgust
behold my flesh with torturous intention.

Everest.
Cutting and killing ,
looming and taunting
above me.

Me ,
mine,
I.

How do eloquent words become feeling?
Or is that the price..
of not feeling at all?