October 14, 2024

My body doesn’t feel like my own

I see it hover and murmur,

a peculiar figure in the corner

or on my shoulder

a haunting dweller, violent but in control.

 

It sings disturbing lullabies

full of nagging triggers and fearful thoughts

once it starts, it never lets me off

until it is satisfied, feeding on every bit of

my panic-stricken soul

 

It has hands formed with raw, moth-eaten flesh

the very arms that clutch a helpless neck

as it constricts and grips— 

only lets go at the sight of

lips turning a pallid shade

 

With heavy, jarring hauls of breath

down a drink and the prescription meds

an attempt out of its awful little game 

panic closes in as it mocks

the constant buzzing in my skin

 

A familiar chime echoes 

its cadence, erratic and tight

a strangling tune, a ringing in the ears

music from the screams

of an organ inside me 

 

Moisture builds upon the palms

along with irrational tremors

as sanity hangs on the precipice,

at the hands of a horrid companion

never appeased, never kind

 

And then it pauses and

bears me a condescending smile

a frantic metronome that takes a backseat,

a ghost who creeps unannounced

and never leaves

 

Piece by Sofia Cadelino

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