Madness-
everyone said;
“Don't worry,
you're not going mad”,
but I was.
Losing the plot-
not sleeping for days-
chaos unfolds,
like tangled bedsheets
after endless, restless nights-
tossing, turning,
it smells like smoke,
burning holes
in my fabric of reality.
We no longer share
the same-
mine: messy,
smoke-filled,
bergamot,
Earl Grey-
endless cups,
cigarettes.
My world fell apart-
I call,
dump my grief
on them.
Midnight walks-
hooting owls,
shadows stretching.
I try to be strong-
bear the burden-
deny-
suggest-
it’s all wrong-
my mind-
a reckless driver-
speeding towards the edge.
Imagine the car-
on my bed-
driving myself off-
a crash-
to the floor.
Maybe-
when I spoke to Jesus,
or their earthly voice-
they called the ambulance,
or-
they just listened.
Without you I tumble
did you hear my prayer?
Or do I speak into a void
my voice swallowed?
Watching me spiral-
unravelling-
a chaotic whisper.
Wondering-
will I ever stop
this fall?