my head is going to burst.
the thoughts are too crowded in my head.

the storm brews,
it shifts and turns,
rearing it's ugly head.
but i'm the only one who sees it.

my mouth is so bitter
the dryness of my throat slowly engulfing me.

the storm quietens,
slowly sinking to the floor,
not moving.
a corpse of what once lived.

my reprieve comes in intervals
the paranoia entrapping me till change makes it's way.