Do You Feel Me Changing


Do You Feel Me Changing 

I am falling, can you feel that?

The cold and awkward feel of being transformed.

I am drifting into something I can't explain. I am feeling a void of myself, I am feeling, of something else. Voices plague the fractures of my mind. Courting a temptress of lies, trying to walk me down a path of exposed wounds.

Cattled are my scars, grouped in the abandoned stairwell of my heart. I am suffocated by this unwanted extension of myself. The pain, at which has no name. Strange echoes speak in the distance as I wake. Alive I feel, but am I something else, someone else?

I hear them, I now speak with them. Before, it was just me, alone inside my head. Now I am clustered with many. Formed in the malpractice of my own mind, but not at my hand. Confused, yet I believe, I constrict my thoughts to their wishes.

Most of those whom I know, are now mere shadows of my life. Family has become a fleeting picture. Arguments collide in the halls of my home. Tears once burrowed, now rise from my eyes. Flushed in the embarrassment of self, but I know not what haunts me.

Or even if what haunts me is a lie. Maybe, I am this, a creature of the beyond. Stretching my hand to the stars and my heart to the soils of my soul. I can conquer with great intentions to win, but I feel no reason to fight.

These voices are polite, at least from the lips of my head. But others, when they grow silent, I see they dread my presence. I become a repulsive insect, though I please my friends. They listen, each their own. Some giving advice of care, others the intention of murder.

But paranoia has sprung and I keep my eyes exact to the poultry of thoughts. Can't let the flavors of life die. I have many now, more than one. Truth they each speak, but I can't choose which to abide. At least, not in the moment.

Control, they are each a pilot, we fly to the clouds, seeking shelter from those that wish our demise. To take me, to huddle in the corners of the dark. Among these clouds I am free, though it is cold and the streets up here are barren.

I find it extraordinary, at least of my, myself, my friends, not so much. They wish me to resist, to find them places to be. To allow them the freedom to walk as I do. But they have become harsh, fortunately, though family is scarce.

There is but one who holds to me. I am no longer a falling star, burning the atmosphere of the unfortunate tunes of my head. But I am a substance of understanding now, centered, as best as I can be. I am functioning at peak, when I am in the clouds with my pilots.
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This is something to hopefully expose how one may think or feel as they fall into the depths of mental illness, that is, if one can could explain and notice they are falling before it is too late. 

Do you feel the world is welcoming to the struggles of mental illness or still hold much stigma?

Want to turn the mind on to more estranged thoughts? A Man's Traveled Heart
Coming soon, The Bleeding of Words.

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