intrusive thoughts/the jitters

distorted figures in the room,
distorted voices in my head,
distorted clouds in the sky
distorted touches in my bed...
       refracted in the burning sun,
                   reflected in the chosen one,
refracted in the brightest light,
                   reflected in the darkest night.
one, two, two, three, three, three, four,
five, six, six, six, seven, eight;
there's a shadow at the door
whose worth is measured in fear's weight.
i still feel bugs,
i still feel tugs,
i still feel rugs,
i still feel hugs.
loud sounds and weird smells
cause me sensory overload.
forget i asked. forget i ever said
anything. in this awful mode,
i'm wallowing in dread.
do it. do it. do it.
just do it.
almost six years now,
i've not touched my wrists,
but sunken, though, in late night
 silent trysts.
he called me bitter words,
and walked away.
we stayed sober from our pains
until another day.
the cloudy days are abundant
in my world of darker skies,
and it remains that way,
until everything in it dies.
dies. dies.

-LJ
28 January 2017