She was crippled
But only her body was cracked
Life existed in-between shades of grey and black
The chatter echoed inside her head for days
She stares at the ceiling
Wide awake
Clouds of smoke trace the silhouette of her body
She disappears


When my head gets loud, I get quiet. But the quieter I get, the louder the conversation gets. Sometimes I stare at the ceiling, or at the wall. Sometimes I can’t sleep at all.
I daydream about the old reality because I refuse to let the new one grab hold of me.
Nothing seems real anymore
I walk, but my feet don’t touch the floor
I look around at this place
And I see a dead face
Emotional or emotionless
Anger or sadness
Isolation or conversation
Drugs become my temptation