The sticks and twigs crawl out from the grass to follow my feet on a thin path of concrete.
The shadows of the bushes reach around the corners to grasp at me.
“What’s it like to lose your mind?”
No one’s ever asked. It’s obvious yet I think they fear it because insensitivity creeps near it. Truthfully, I want to hear it.
The chaos behind the carefully crafted appearance is worth looking into.
There’s a man I know from another realm. A dimension that runs parallel. He slaughtered my mother in a dream. In my waking hours he’s stalking me.
Static figures that dart from street lamps to the spindly trees. Pale faced entities that blankly stare. Gazing at me. Wandering closer and closer.
Shake me by the shoulders. I am not okay.
“What’s it like to lose your mind?”
It’s like a slow decay. Ask me one more time.
It’s beauty in disarray.