……….all over what is not real with a paranoid component and feelings of despair. An emotional heart beating out a vibration of error. Not to mention a plague of voices playing with my head.
With a mind as sensitive as a set of scales enrobed in this suspense. Ready to oscillate about the mean with life's triggers before balancing once again to reality.
This is the only bit of apparatus I have to judge the world, squarely and fairly. Measuring and weighing require calmness as I get lost in a schizophrenic haze where balance is harder to achieve.
My wider more resilient senses acknowledge these tremors which are real and imaginary before settling to naught. A spiral of emotion erupts and phased oscillations well up in the vortex of my mind though I am quiet externally.
“O how sensitive”, a voice remarks. A voice which keeps my face taught and gaunt with the irrational fear of this “self reproach”.
I rush to a mirror to seek the resultant expression, etched on my face. After 40 years of tolerance. A shimmering sea wreck is weakly reflected back. Inhabited by ghosts, haunting and possessing me like an old ruin.
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