bekindtomonkeys

Fluoxetine
byJared Caraway (bekindtomonkeys)

I no longer recognize this voice inside my head.
There's no telling exactly when it arrived,
but the longer it stays, the more I despise it.
I no longer recognize my own, old eyes.

It's taken me years, this instant realization.
I'd always hoped that my voice would never blacken.
I've felt anxiety, liquid air, rush inside my lungs, then
THICKEN.

Panic is death, next best thing to dread,
night prowler, hidden in the depths of blackest pitch,
And even in the shallows of a simple light switch;
true to life nightmare, infinite, infesting my bed.

I once and for all silenced the voice in my head.
The question, I wonder: Is it
Or am I
Dead?

Jan. '07