Хмари

unnamed.jpgWalls made of hot liquid
closing in, blinding irises.

Suffocating under thick
dark,clouds that weigh tons.

But no one else sees them,
like ghosts stealing life

and breathe from those
mad enough to see, or admit it.

Falling, spiraling, into
whirlpools of twisting chaos-

a tornado of madness spinning
recollection and obsession into

a heady whiplash of warped
reality, destroying threads that

grip to what’s real with
weakening conviction, slipping.

Voices harass ears, disembodied,
and larynx contracts, voicing a

response to what isn’t there,
but mind fails to grasp that which

it controls, relinquishing
dominion to invisible clouds

which weigh tons.

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