Shapeshifter – © Lauren E. Wilson

My body feels weightless against

the paper thin sheets upon which I lay;

my skin nothing but wax paper

surrounding a collection of a broken boneyard.


Insomnia sweeps me up in his arms

and dips me in a dance I know well.

I feel the cold, steely body of Insomnia

as he pulls me tighter,

his hands running up and down my spine

like a game of chutes and ladders.



my dance becomes a wild romp

through darkness—

My lungs burn—

my feet throb

underneath the

scattered glass on

which I run.

Blood pours from my feet,

leaving bloody prints in the dark;

black sweat pours from my glands

and stains my eyes,

blindness overcomes me.

My heart is in my stomach

And I’m fighting for breath

as I frantically flee through darkness.



Anxiety leaves


Now my old nemesis arrives:

Depression who was there all along

within the shadows

like demons within the clergy.

The shapeshifter grins as

long, black fingers grip my heart.

I am a tourist

with no clue of my surroundings;

the temples of my

once content mind shatter and

photographs of my

happiness all deteriorate and curl.


My body,

still weightless,

has finally given in

to my captors.

The weight of my racing thoughts

and broken heart

causes my bones to

start to crack in these

forgotten fossils that are my

crumbling body and

disintegrating organs.


Insomnia’s steely form—

Anxiety’s mad romp—

Depression’s encompassing grip.


The Shapeshifter has been victorious,

it’s victim a crumbling mass

upon the bed in

which I lie with him.


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