The Silver Screen

There are movies that play inside

my head

The lens faded, the picture blurry, the

resolution minimised

But the audio track

is clear

in

my head

It speaks, oh it speaks!

The joyous occasion whereby the audio is filled with torment

wrecking the beautiful cognition...

A brutal transition

I hear, oh I hear!

It is externalised, it is self flagellation,

constantly engaging in destructive cognition...

A brutal transition

I profusely repeat my confession of guilt

Yelling at the silver screen

When the blurry film stops and the audio turns quiet

It is empty..

All that is left

is me

The metaphysical organs

The sun shone on the simplicity while our heads were in the clouds
We shared the scent of the breeze while thoughts never brought us down
Basking in the moment, splitting the time into two
The internal clock ticking slowly while the external stayed true
A comfortable silence brew and broke my soul to pieces
A rush of blood through my veins made my heart sound beaten
The gasp of air was only temporary but struck my body down
The pulse was vehement and quick, disjointed my vision
With pure precision I felt I was going to drown
For I can breathe again, only for a moment... A single space in time
Only when I wake myself, resuming the organ which is mine

Sometimes

Sometimes.

Just sometimes.

Deep breaths

Heavy heads

Flailing in the red

Racing to bed

Sleeping dead

Echoes in my ear drums

Echoes of voices speak

Words repeat themselves in my canals

Anxiety levels rise

My body is an empty hallway

Heavy eyes, heavy head, heavy heart

Iron lungs, silicon nose and plastic ears

The doors swing open

Everything clangs together

It's noise piercing,

Ringing for days