The Awoken,
catatonic coma; depressive crash
eyes open, blank stare

I hear; 'Is she awake?'
I was never asleep, I mutter.
no one hears me.

I'm none compliant, yet
fully lucid
my brain turns over scripts
my lips remain mute.

The Watcher,
observing, all senses stimulated

I hear;
the woodpecker in the garden
the kettle whistling downstairs

I see;
mother, doctor, grandmother, dog
the artificial light as dawn rises

I taste;
the metal on my tongue - 'I think the Lithium is working...' the doctor evaluates

I smell;
the dogs breath, he sleeps beside me
last nights family supper, grandma made roast lamb

I feel;
the heavy weight of blankets piled
the needle in my hand as I'm fed through a drip

I ache;
muscles as knotted as my esothagus
my weight sinking into the mattress where bones & sores rub
my ribs form a concave dark magic
it needs expelling
weakness isn't my friend anymore

I stare;
sedatives cloud me
the electroconvulsive therapy shocks
and yet, after
you're still, somber, forgetful
ghostly
you just lie there
time isn't even a concept
as night brings day, day brings night
it's all you know

Hands touch skin stretched tightly
over protruding bones
I'm on my back now
my only company; the ceiling
not even the canopy of stars I once gazed at with joy
not forgetting Muse, he rests beside me still
it's hard to breathe

I simply slip away,
again.

© Sia Jane