I have no pills left.
The chemical cage which contains chaos.
I feel different, both exhilarated and afraid.
I know the dangers well, shadows, and suspicious figures.
The silent sounds of your name being whispered in an empty room.
I feel the aggression rising inside, accompanied by rushing anxiety and the fear of losing control.
My skin feels like it belongs to someone else.
Discomfort, tingling and pins and needles.
I feel the darkness within me, clawing to escape like a trapped animal.
I feel it through every fiber of my being, wanting to take over, invading my consciousness.
Dark, demented thoughts fly across my mind like dragons in the sky from stories of old. Scorching the battlefield below.
But this is only a skirmish, that I, me, myself will win.
Until the next time I run out of those fucking pills.
About the Creator
Richard Hudson
Poet, warped, very optimistic, slightly sceptical.
On Facebook, Twitter, Insta, and YouTube.
Insta: @Richard_Hudson_82
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