I see the cemetery out my window.

The window frosts up and the mist creeps between the graves.

I feel faded, foggy. Damp.

My hand cuts through objects, my mind shifts through images of last night.

Stop. Please stop.

Can you hear me?

Is it in my head?

My ears ring, the soulless sound.

I feel the way I move in and out.

My vision elongates and statics.

Stretching and warping.

It creeps up my body

runs It’s fingers along my skin.

I miss the way things used to feel real in my hands.

I feel nothing. Numbness I’m fond of.

I see the cemetery out my window.

I’ll join them soon.