Slipping {I've been wrong all along}
I could feel it this time. I could feel myself slipping. I was reaching out, but hands, roots, and ropes my hands were missing. Grasping at straws as I couldn't get my hands gripping anything real. I could feel myself slipping back down. Grasping at air fully aware of what was going to come next. I saw the phases set out in front of me. I saw the phases line up and take their places. The acts each waiting with their own stylized axe. I saw it coming and I couldn't get myself off the tracks. I boiled and waddled it down to all the facts and still couldn't comprehend how I was going to make it back. I still couldn't comprehend how my mind would skip like broken records spin. I knew what would happen next. I knew and still there was nothing that I could do. I aimed. I took aim at my friends. I took aim at them. I took chains to myself. I took chains. It wasn't until I opened my eyes on the freeway that I realized I had been driving for days. It wasn't until I came to that I realized that it was a completely different day. That's a scary thought as your mind, once tautly wound, starts to be come unraveled and unbound. It's a scary thought how repetition, repeating, repetitious thoughts will arm themselves against you. When I felt the first hit it took me a while to realize it, when I took that first knick, I miscalculated how bad it actually was. Off balance when you feel your mind slipping. Off balance when you feel your heart ticking. Off balance and your memory starts skipping. Like a scratch on a record, my mind kept skipping. Forward and present and backwards and future. Unsure of what time frame I actually lived in. It's a scary thought that you live in a world that is not your own nor your own reality. Where cavities aren't the only holes born by wearing down the hardened enamel. I couldn't see the end of it all I saw was the loop. It's a scary thought to know that a thought or an idea or a similarity becomes reality once it's taken root. I reached out and had an equation I was trying to solve without the truth. I kept on going; calculating when I couldn't even validate the proof. I already knew that there were a few screws loose. I saw myself fall and I couldn't catch myself. I couldn't catch him either so I'm zero for two and can't get even. Getting pushed around by my own self conscious demons. Whittling away at me from my insides. My ailments unseen, yet kept in subtle check. I do my damnedest but sometimes the rage builds up and unjust want to break their fucking necks. I slipped I tripped I'm sorry I quipped. Losing my mind has left me like this. I slipped I cracked I chipped I quipped. Repeating my own words like I already said this. I can feel most thing. What am I shitting myself, I can feel everything. I can feel everything and it is damn overwhelming. I feel it in my sleep with dreams that never keep me in good graces. I feel it in my feet with wounds that ever weep and pains in my knees that remind me of younger things. I feel it with my eyes that shed invisible cries that hurt from staring at skies too long with solar flares in sight. I slipped and tripped and hurt, among other things, my pride, my face, my heart, my friends, my fake friends, and my sides. It affects me in my work, I'm my love, in my sleep, and in my lack of appetite. Quick to anger, that stays more than a fortnight. Long to forlorn, despair greets me daily. Anxiety and doubt cripple me in my tracts and block confident words from escaping my mouth. On the worst days when people ask what is wrong; I tell them, me, I'm wrong. I've been slipping. I've been falling. I've been wrong all along.