by basil juno
My heart won't shut up.
It feels like it's screaming, crying out for help, choking on the last of its calmness with shivering, trembling hands.
My mind is a storm; it is angry at the heart.
"You are useless," it says. "Useless and pitiful." The brain whispers over and over again.
His eyes are racing back and forth.
They don't know what to do. They feel frightened. They try not to listen to the brain's harsh words but the quick thumping of the heart drowns out all rational thoughts.
"I must be crazy,"
he exhales heavily. "You're not crazy," they say.
Those lovely clouds of pure, wonderful people surround him.
"We love you."
The chaos inside him is too much.
His ears mangle and twist their speech into withered, bloody corpses. "You ARE crazy," everything around him is fleeing, racing, but all seems to be moving in slow motion, too.
"We hate you, despise you."
He holds his face in his weary hands. "Nobody loves you."
His ears chant over and over and over and over
until his skull is cracking and caving in on itself. His thoughts are obscured with brittle, frigid memories and nightmares.
"Why," he whispers.
He closes his eyes and appears to be laying in a bed of flowers. Roses and daisies surround him with tenderness. "Sleep," they sing softly. "Let us wash your pain away."