The floor beneath me is melting like a painting left in the rain
The more I try to claw my way back to consciousness
The more I drift away from reality
The deeper I sink into the place of distorted horror
Where static shapes are able to twist and turn
Ears are able to see and smell
Brains are scrambled and tangled
Words are formed but cannot be spoken
Thoughts are burgeoned but cannot be controlled
The venomous voices have all the power
Dare not to feed them with positivity
In darkness they are determined to rule

27/03/2019