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She slept too often, and never by choice. The world came to her in fragments, a handful of seconds, a conversation half-heard, a face she recognised only because it had aged since last time.
The shivering fingers and trembling toes are standing on the edge Stomach dropping in nervous fear seconds stretching beyond ~To anticipate~ The toes curl around the edge as the moment...
I watch as my family leaves through the blinds, loneliness already consumed me. I had done wrong and I know they won't forgive me for it.
They're looking my way, What have I done. Am I in trouble.
Butterflies, wings as cold as ice. They drag their edges through my stomach. Sick, deep down, and ready to vomit. I'm ready to fall and I'm ready to plummet. A t w i s t i n g ,. A CHURNING,.
Pound. Pound. Pound. A pounding. Deep in my head. Beating my brain. Steadily, it treads. I can't focus. It's drumming too loud. Inviting a grieving pain. Hanging as a cloud. Deeper. Louder. Harder.
I'm screaming, loudly, But no one hears, I'm yelling harshly, But where're my peers. I'm moving quickly, Yet oh-so-slow, I'm sluggish, really, Nowhere to go.
I try to think long and hard, but there is this annoying branch ticking to the window. Everytime I think I almost have the answer, it's gone almost as quickly as it came.
Anticipation putting nerves on alert. This could go either way, joy or hurt. Churning guts sending ripples of electricity. Through my body causing a sensation symphony.
It creeps up on you... Slowly sweeping, tendrils of tension, Starting in your throat.
I hate carousels. A sweaty man in a tank top, cooped up in a box, waits with goblin hands to grab my coin. Mummy smiles, says "it'll be fun!".
Coming from nowhere. A feeling of doom washes over me. What I see in front of me shifts. I can no longer make sense of the world around me. I lose all control. Can't sit still.
I look out the window and see a face. I'm not scared, though. In a way it's beautiful. It glows with a nameless but brilliant quality, a cascade of golden hair falling around its head.
Waiting is a difficult occupation Time should never be wasted, And time waits for no man. But it feels like time has stood still. Seconds last for minutes, Patience is running thin.
I sit down on a chair, Earphones in my ears, I press 'Play' and I begin to stare. I finally give this video a whirl. I see the black and white swirl and it begins to uncurl.
I stood in the hallway with my head bowed noticing the florescent lights above my head glowing brightly then dimming in a slow rythmic pettern as if in tune with the power I felt surging inside me.
It was then and there, the time stopped, people around me frozen. Me still moving, just as normal. Then suddenly, it all happened, the thing that changed my life. Now I'm incomplete, literally.
~This poem is about Depersonalisation, a mental illness that I suffer from where I feel disconnected from my body. A lot of people who smoke weed develop it, but I attained it sober.
Keeping to my recent theme of dreams and all stuff sleepy, I'm going to write up a very intense dream /sleep paralysis episode I had. This will probably be my strangest post to date so be warned.
I feel it's darkness grip, Down on my chest it crushes. Not a breath can pass my lips , Across my face a coldness rushes.