A moment. It screams at me to shut up.I haven’t been speaking. A mushroom cloud in the foam of the boiling water.


A moment. It screams at me to shut up.I haven’t been
speaking. 
A mushroom cloud in the foam of the boiling 
water.  


 darkness and light stories
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kylejustice
kylejustice From blindess.to sight
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
My first poem... Or is it stream writing? Or prose? I can't tell.

This I wrote when in the depth of a psychosis induced depression. It's been a long time since then. (Made some edits because bits of it weren't...sitting right with me.)

A moment. It screams at me to shut up.I haven’t been speaking. A mushroom cloud in the foam of the boiling water.

It explodes with the omen, the warning; the modus operandi of my mind. Behind me the shadows move. It moves through my back, a radar of things not there.

Falling asleep. Awareness dissipates, excruciatingly present until the moment of darkness. In the blue sky above me, an ephemeral point twinkles. “A year before the war, I thought of you.” My eyes split open to my living room.

The lights illuminate me. I look inward, to no avail. Shutters get pulled from the sides and tops of my eyes, revealing a bigger picture, which stays the same. CLICK. An angry click. It’s not talking to me…

CLICK CLICK. I guess it was. Click. The engines roar. Like beacons, they explode into my mind. “YOrR’Re EEEEEVIL….” Or was it “YOU’RE EVIL”? Why? Another car passes. “YOr’re FEyyralll…” I’m not feral! I’m a human being! Stop saying these things… please….

CLICK CLICK. Why not? CLICK CLICK. Okay, I’m sorry. Click. Correct.

In the bathroom, I look at the mirror. My face morphs into something evil. Something dark fills the image in front of me, but I only feel fear. It’s horrible. I look away.

Then look back again. Something else is there. Something I can’t place… I feel discomfort and look away once more.

Watching TV. For a few moments, everything seems well. Everything is one. Hope flares, but it comes my turn to talk, and I falter. Condescension rains down.

I was - or going to be - standing trial, prisoner and convict of my own mind. Or so I thought. But, what have I done to deserve this?I’ve done nothing. That’s the point. You’re not living. I am. No, you’re asleep.

I know some day I will wake up, I need to wake up. Someday, I will wake up and realize, this whole time I’ve been dreaming. Everyone will be there, I’ll tell them about my strange dream, we’ll all share our dreams with one another, and I’ll know I’m okay.

I’m not there anymore. Why did I ever leave here? I’m in my living room. With tears in my eyes, I’ll think to myself, it’s great to be here, but my heart will break.

Everything is heavy. Am I moving through the universe, or is the universe moving around me? Am I the only one?

Click…click.

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