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
