Creative Writing, OldVenue

Creative Writing: Trust In My Paranoia

I’m trying so hard to look for the normal. Holding onto the tiles in the shower I have to remind myself that this is real… this is real. But my brain is working against me. Carting up images of the night when I lost me. I feel the imagination in my veins work itself up into a frenzy and repeat again that I’m not going up. The water collides into my eyelids, underneath I am back in Tuesday running through flashing walls and into people. The anxiety taps my shoulder and I have to breathe again, breathe because there’s no going back there. What is numbness? It’s the window you don’t look out of and all you want is a bitter taste in your mouth. I am hopeless as I throw up your face again and again. Getting more desperate, I feel the hints of abandonment and begin to trust again in my paranoia. Just like last time.

24/02/2015

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ninaward



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