Thud

Something is off.

Sitting down. Talking. Listening but looking around. Looming presence creeping about. Not from the shadows. From above.

Sitting in nothing. Nowhere. But everywhere. Listening but only to the thuds of me. My cells. My blood. Thud. Thud thud.

Thud.

I am not moving. I can’t move. Or I can. I am flowing after my mind. Behind me. The river becoming ever longer. Water turning to tar. I am here but I am not. In the whirlwind of something. Controlling me. Grasping at me with invisible grips. Grope after grope becoming more detached.

Thud thud.

But nothing is there. No one is here. Why can’t I move.

I am in slow motion. But I am not. Physically I am. The gropes so heavy they pull my skin off. Almost. Soon.

Where

are the gropes

thudthudTHUD

Yelling at my cells. Move. Go. Run. Crawling under the gropes. Flowing in tar.

Physically peaceful. Slow. Heavy.

Thud.

In panic.

MOVE