Not dead, though
An escape and a release it seems
But it’s a tight grip;
so tight every broken piece holds still;
still enough to form a great illusion,
an illusion of wholeness…
but illusion is like a glass-
It can be broken
silent and still;
still as though the world has frozen,
utter quiet, time and again.
The feeling of euphoria or the lack thereof-
it embracess your wholeness,
whisks every noise and pain away
But not for long.
The pain isn’t gone forever
The silence won’t last
For it is a calm before the storm
a stillness before the vertigo
An illusion that can be shatterd
Numbness before the shattering pain.