Eyes wide, I am a deer caught in headlights.
Drifting somewhere between reality and the cocoon
I have woven to protect myself from
the very world I now strive to face.
Each moment, each sudden,
gasping breathe, each blink, each wave of inevitable
horror, brings another shift to my perception of
the dreamlike moments I encounter.
My mind focuses even less than my confused eyes.
I know not where to look or what to think. My brain is crowded
with such numbers of absent thoughts and irrational fears that
no single voice can be heard.
I try to organize my life, tidy my mind
find a bit of sense
but my efforts are lost in the shuffle.
Clear thoughts cannot be located in my head.
My feelings, my opinions
my desires
are found only through the paper onto which I pour myself.
It is not my brain who does the thinking
it is my hand.
It is not my mouth who does the speaking
it is my pen.
When I cannot stand for myself, my words stand for me.