The sky is too blue and goes on forever, further than the human mind can imagine.
The birds sound wrong.
The buildings loom and cage.
The air is tasteless.
My feet are numb against the ground as I walk, the impact is too soft. Not there. Not real.
I scrape at my skin, grip at my keys, blessed, lucid sharpness that feels like breath in empty lungs.
The sharpness fades and cannot be recaptured.
My heart kicks up harder but I can barely feel it, my racing, erratic breathing a blurry, distant, hazy target my sight won’t settle on.
The world closes in and grows dizzingly wide somehow simultaneously.
My nails against my skin don’t ring true.
It’s all wrong. Numb. Distant. Wide. Claustrophobic. Dizzy. Grasping. Unsteady. Unmoving. Lost.
The familiar made unfamiliar.
I can’t tell if I’m asleep.
Spitfire Words 