Sometimes I feel,
As if I’m on LSD,
The colors,
The sounds,
The smells,
The fingers…

No one can,
See them,
Hear them,
Smell them,
Feel them,
On their bodies…

They flash before me,
A rainbow kaleidoscope,
Changing shape,
Changing speed,
I feel dizzy,
Am I sick again?

The voices whisper,
They shout too,
Naughty things in my ears,
Telling me what to do,
Telling me,
That no one can be trusted.

Is that carbon monoxide?
Am I going to die?
“Do you smell that?”
“No man,
It’s just you,”
We’re all going to die.

They start at the shoulder,
Then navigate down,
Touching my chest,
My hips,
My inner psyche,
Gripping tight.

“Leave me alone!”
I shout to myself,
Slapping at the fingers,
Trying to pry them loose,
They won’t let go,
Their grip gets forceful now.

The colors flash,
Faster now,
The whispers and shouts,
Bounce around my mind,
The carbon monoxide,
Fills my lungs.

“Honey calm down!”
I hear my mother shout,
But I can’t,
I can’t stop shaking,
IT’s taking over now,
I’m definitely sick again.

“Not sick again--
ME again.”