Medical Poison In My System

Move slowly,
an inch at a time.
Rhyming is just cliche,
but then wouldn't
repeating the first line
be unconvincingly easier?

My mind is not well;
I feel like this is temporary
But I don't talk want to about it.
All I can do is compile drafts.

I wont ask for help.
I cant even rely on myself.
I wish I was somebody else.
Constantly.

I know I wont feel a thing,
these accomplishments
are translucent and are pulling
me in relentlessly.
Maybe repetition will save me.

But still,
all I can do is write it down.
Hopefully, this is temporary
since not feeling a thing
appears so much manageable.

And since I know I wont feel a thing
These accomplishments become brief,
they become so short-lived.

Help me find the origin
to what happens when we
reach each other.
Will it become an accomplishment?