I forget my hands are mine, they don’t even seem to belong to me. It’s like I’m sitting there and suddenly there’s a hand but I don’t recognize it as mine.
My skin doesn’t crawl but my mind does. It crawls with real or imagined emotion that can’t get past my head to show, to express . It swarms in my head like bees.
There’s something turning in my stomach. I bet it’s glowing. It’s round, moves a lot. I want to rip it out.
There’s something over my shoulder, I think it’s my mother or maybe someone else but as soon as I turn around they’ll be gone. I can feel their hand on my shoulder. I can feel the bed adjust to their weight, but I open my eyes and they aren’t there. I don’t believe in ghosts.
The images and the disconnect crawl all over me, fill the room and hang on my shoulders as if its natural to do so.
I’m not afraid of the crawl.