When Broken Glass Comes to Visit

My days are shattered. My body coming apart neatly at the seams. It's like a crack directly down the center of me. It takes the wheel and splits my mind in two neat halves. Everything moves exactly one inch to the left and I am undone. It's moving in my stomach, it's reaching behind my eyes. It's like a beehive under my skin, buzzing and stinging. Shifting me. Fracturing me.

Strangeness comes to stay. Steals all my pillows and leaves my head on the hard, cold floor. I'm crying. Reaching inside my self trying to yank my guts out, trying to pull this unease out of me the hard way. I want to bleed it out. I want to be normal. I can't think. I can't leave. Someone locked me in here and I can't figure out why.

It takes over and becomes control lost inside a huge vibrating jar of anxiety all rose coloured with splintering glass. I try to sleep it away but every time I open my eyes it's there. It's waiting like a big spider crouching in my mind nibbling at the wires of my sanity. It's waiting to pounce on me and I could sleep a thousand years but it would still be there. Ageless. Unforgiving. Waiting.

And I am always lost on days like this. No bread crumbs can bring me home. No lights blinking in the distance a warning to travelers. I'm out here. I'm out here. I'll be out here until the world finally cracks open and swallows me whole.