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
My lungs burn—
my feet throb
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.
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.
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
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.