Abuse Anxiety Art POETRY PTSD The People Behind My Eyes

The Sky Rumbles

Eerie gusts of wind made the curtains rumble.
At will the wind blew strong enough to send the curtains flying,
but mostly it caught them and shook out a chilling sound.
Had I not been half in, half out, I would have closed the windows,
but all I did was lay awkward, looking above my head,
at blue curtains lit up by flood lights,
caught in some unearthly grip.
A grip that soon found it’s fingers around my neck.

I clawed at the invisible trying to breathe,
I turned toward the window to catch the next wave to come through,
to gasp it in,
but it was never enough..
The more I struggled the more my chest compressed.
Pillows, covers, clothing were left piled where I wouldn’t stumble.
When every stitch had been discarded I realized it was yesterday sitting on my chest,
suffocating me,
And I knew, the incubus of my past had again won the night.

written 10182016-504pmest Jordan

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