Instability

The world is shaking
beneath my feet.
The roar drowns out
hopeful thoughts,
leaving only despair
and sometimes indecision.
Actions are no longer controlled,
except perhaps by
an animal instinct.
I can no longer
be responsible for what occurs,
but I am.
I break;
I split and crack
until a shard
of my life
is lodged
in the bottom of my foot.
I have no tweezers.
The skin grows back
over the shard
but it is still there:
I feel it with
every step.
An infection develops,
but I don't know,
or I ignore it,
until my foot
is now only recognizable
as a black lump
of decay.
The stench is enough
to drive a sane person
insane.
Luckily, I am already
too far from sanity
for this to apply to me.
And my world continues
to roll
as another wave
of the same old quake
crashes over me
and I am caught
in the undertow.