A cold wind blows inside the house
the windows are all sealed shut.
The buzzing of drones.
A million insects swarm,
hurrying inside my head.
Some trumpets announce their arrival.
Beelzebub.
I get nervous. For I am a stranger
to the anxiety itself, overwhelming me.
There is no substance to it.
No substance in me.
So then Why?
And a million voices answer.
I twitch, scared. The screams
are unrelenting.
I want to cower from this music.
But I press on amidst it.
I envision an inferno
on this white piece
of psychotic paper struggle.
The noise cools.
I feel a stab in the shoulder.
And then the sounds subside,
then grow again. Taunting.
A swarm of raging souls
tear at my insides. I want to vomit.
to clear them from within.
i have not eaten in days
there is notthing there.
Humanity, with its uncountable souls,
has grown silent again.
I am on the floor.
Unwell. Undressed.
How did I get here?
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