I feel strangulated,
suffocated by a reality that
I’m not convinced exists.
Stranger than it seems,
I’m constantly dodging fireballs,
demons in my dreams and waking life.
They’re luring the innocent,
possessing the deranged.
Stranger than it seems,
I can’t make heads or tails
of my direction.
I feel like I’m suffocating,
as if the idea of oxygen is alluding me,
my very survival, an enigma.
Where can I withdraw?
Where can I remain?
Am I even conscious?
Am I chronically unhinged?
Days circle and crease in my binding,
another x to mark another end.
Questions beckon crude worries.
What am I waiting for?
Am I feigning living, waiting for a life to begin?
9 responses to “Stranger in My Body”
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