.Prescription Medication.
Messages run slow through my brain like molasses;
Head full of smoke and my body can’t function.
Heart is at a stand still.
There’s a goddamned infection in my soul,
Making it a struggle to find even the most shallow breath.
Like trying to run away from the boogeyman in a nightmare that seems so real.
Legs are leaden,
And when I open my mouth to shriek,
Nothing but a silent exhale is released.