Catch Some Wide Eye

This One’s Not About Me…


It staggers like a blow to the head. Swift, the recoil down past your shoulders. Ingrained like an embryonic dance. The fetal position, back hugs the wall. Or maybe the wall hugs you as the insurgence of chemicals leaks from a misfiring brain. Tears are all that’s left of you. And when I say you, I mean me. Misfiring. Like a colonial rifle with powder still left in the barrel, shards exploding into the fog before you even get to aim. The world pushing down on your lungs while tiny invisible thumbtacks stick notes all over your body. Reminders of who you really are. And who you aren’t. There are no voices but empty. There is no feeling but hurt. There is no safety but far, far away.

Advertisements

Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: