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Oct 2018
Staring at the ceiling,
what the hell is this feeling?
I can’t make up my mind,
of what’s real and what’s fake.

If I’m not dreaming,
then who is that screaming?
No one seems to hear it,
so that’s a mistake.

In front of the mirror,
and all I see is me,
but the me that I see,
is not who he seems to be.

Something’s not right,
in the little details,
in the colors and smells,
this is not re-al-i-ty.

I can see movement,
in the corner of my eyes,
something alive,
that’s not there when I look.

It’s like I’m in between worlds,
where time doesn’t exist,
the soundless abyss,
being dragged down by a hook.

This detox is different,
something is wrong,
I knew all along,
but that brings no relief.

This panic, is manic,
now I’m feeling frantic,
how can a person,
forget to breathe?

It’s feels like the weight,
on my shoulders has lifted,
but it’s only shifted,
and been placed on my chest.

My mind has grown muddy,
and I got nothing left,
fighting and struggling,
for every breath.

Clutching at myself,
as the tremors start.
Is it my heart?
Bring in the crash cart.

I hear someone say,
“place this under your tongue,
let it dissolve and don’t chew”,
but my tongue has gone numb.

I watch the walls bend,
and then I start to scream.
I’d like to believe it’s a dream,
but I’m not that dumb.

I can hear ambulance sirens,
so distant, and close,
but I’ve gone morose,
all I feel is the pain.

Houston, are you there?
All connections are down,
I can’t hear a sound,
I think I’ve gone insane.
Jack Torrance
Written by
Jack Torrance  35/M/Oklahoma
(35/M/Oklahoma)   
2.0k
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