Chaotic
The air around me is dense and I can feel the steady push and pull of lungs as I struggle to breathe it.
It’s dark and the black hole is opening up and drawing me in. Now my struggle becomes two fold, I can’t breathe and I’m struggling to hold on. Outside of this circle I can see existence as it continues on its glorious way filled by Sunshine and the glow of warmth and light that fills spaces a million miles from mine.
In this pregnant place I fill I can feel the expanse opening up around me. It’s wide and purges itself of all good things but me! I’m running in a thousand directions trying to grab the corners and drag them in around me. I want the cloak, even if it is space and time and endless amounts of it, so long as it is close around me and I can coax it into a shape that fits. But it’s not mine and I can’t have it - all I can do is back into another corner, shut another door, climb under another table and wait. Closing my eyes tightly, short, sharp breaths and tense muscles that quiver and shake in rhythmic will that wishes it all away.
Next comes the silence! Roaring, screaming, deafening silence - a canvas that opens itself up to the manic musings of the mind and waits. And so the thoughts begin, long and without any order. The tree, the house, the graffiti on the walls, the dog, the car the look on your face. If it were a picture, it would be a Salvador dali. If it weren’t mine I might be interested to listen.
It could be worse, it could be someone else’s voice in my head.
It’s dark and the black hole is opening up and drawing me in. Now my struggle becomes two fold, I can’t breathe and I’m struggling to hold on. Outside of this circle I can see existence as it continues on its glorious way filled by Sunshine and the glow of warmth and light that fills spaces a million miles from mine.
In this pregnant place I fill I can feel the expanse opening up around me. It’s wide and purges itself of all good things but me! I’m running in a thousand directions trying to grab the corners and drag them in around me. I want the cloak, even if it is space and time and endless amounts of it, so long as it is close around me and I can coax it into a shape that fits. But it’s not mine and I can’t have it - all I can do is back into another corner, shut another door, climb under another table and wait. Closing my eyes tightly, short, sharp breaths and tense muscles that quiver and shake in rhythmic will that wishes it all away.
Next comes the silence! Roaring, screaming, deafening silence - a canvas that opens itself up to the manic musings of the mind and waits. And so the thoughts begin, long and without any order. The tree, the house, the graffiti on the walls, the dog, the car the look on your face. If it were a picture, it would be a Salvador dali. If it weren’t mine I might be interested to listen.
It could be worse, it could be someone else’s voice in my head.
posted by Teaine at 8:12 AM
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