Good Morning

Styne T.


Reality hit me, like a buzz of white noise.
Always there. Always ringing.

My eye struggled to crack open.
   Each   eyelash   peeling   away   from   another.

My head felt heavy, like it was anchored to the pillow.
I could hear my steady heartbeat, pulsating in my ear.

                                    I need to move


Hunger gnawed at me, like irritating pins and needles.
   Senses burning. Senses numbing.

My chest felt tight, as if the weight of my body decided to sit atop me.
Pushing me.
Sinking me.

                                    I don’t want to move


Restlessness probes me, like an interjecting—invasive—thought.
   Clouding reason. Clouding reality.

My clothes are soaked with sweat, as if I were amidst a tempestuous storm.
My skin feels sticky.
         Clothes clinging, constricting me.

                                    I am useless|worthless|unneeded


                                    I don’t need to move

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